LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 

SAN  DIEGO 


</te-tx*-£^     (n^i*     Gp*^ 

>-y^    y^r^r 


£&*- j 


YAZOO  STORIES 


BY 

BEVERLY  CARRADINE 


Author  of 

Mississippi  Stories — Pen  Pictures — People  I  Have  Met 

Pastoral  Sketches — Remarkable  Occurrences 

Graphic  Scenes  — A  Journey  To  Palestine 

Etc.  Etc,  Etc. 


THE  CHRISTIAN  WITNESS  CO. 

CHICAGO  AND  BOSTON 


Copyright  1911,  by 
THE  CHRISTIAN  WITNESS  COMPANY 


CONTENTS 


Page 

Major  Rosser           .            .  •                     .               5 

Charlie  Goodfellow         .  .            .            .41 

Stories  Around  a  Camp  Fire  .            .              69 

A  Conversation  in  Hades  .            .            .123 

A  Misunderstood  Man  .            •            145 


MAJOR  ROSSER 


MAJOR  ROSSER 


Major  Rosser  was  the  owner  of  several 
hundred  slaves  and  a  large  beautiful  cotton 
plantation  in  Mississippi.  He  was  one  of 
the  best  pistol  shots  in  the  State  and  was 
equally  proficient  in  horsemanship.  His  met- 
tled steed,  Black  Hawk,  might  paw,  plunge, 
rear  or  kick  as  he  pleased,  but  the  Major 
kept  his  saddle  with  an  easy,  undulating 
grace  that  was  delightful  to  behold. 

His  title  of  Major"  was  not  won  by  any 
act  of  bravery  on  his  part  performed  on  the 
field  of  battle  amid  whizzing  of  shot  bursting 
of  shell  and  the  cries  of  the  dying  mingled 
with  the  thunder  of  cannon  and  the  rattle  of 
musketry.  It  was  obtained  in  a  much  easier 
and  less  dangerous  manner.  A  military  com- 

7 


8  MAJOR  ROSSER. 

pany  was  formed  in  his  county,  assembled 
once,  elected  Rosser  as  the  commanding  of- 
ficer; and  never  met  again.  It  is  well  known 
however,  that  the  honorary  appellation  of 
Captain  is  one  of  comparative  insignificance 
in  the  South,  and  so  the  public,  in  its  own  ir- 
resistible way,  promoted  Captain  Rosser  to 
the  rank  of  Major  without  going  through 
the  formality  of  an  election,  or  securing  the 
necessary  papers  from  the  government. 

At  the  age  of  thirty-five  Major  Rosser  was 
still  unmarried.  He  was  considered  a  con- 
firmed old  bachelor,  and,  as  such,  he  seemed 
to  be  perfectly  content.  With  his  hounds 
napping  on  the  front  gallery;  his  revolvers 
swung  from  nails  in  his  room;  his  slippers, 
shoes,  boots,  and  boot-jack  piled  in  a  corner; 
his  meerschaum,  briar  root,  clay  and  cob 
pipes  on  the  mantel,  mixed  up  with  boxes 
and  bags  of  tobacco,  perique,  kilikinick  and 
other  brands,  he  seemed  to  want  nothing 
else.  He  was  a  satisfied  man. 

He  had  a  few  favorite  books,  which  with 
the  "Picayune"  and  the  "Memphis  Appeal," 
met  his  mental  wants.  A  bountiful  table 
with  the  well  known  Southern  cooking  of 


MAJOR  ROSSER.  9 

hot  biscuit,  broiled  chicken,  egg  cornbread, 
golden  waffles,  spongy  buckwheat  cakes  and 
dripped  coffee,  not  to  mention  other  pala- 
table dishes  of  the  dinner  hour,  amply  sus- 
tained the  body,  while  a  pleasant  circle  of 
town  and  country  friends  satisfied  all  the 
cravings  of  the  social  nature. 

The  Major  possessed  the  most  quiet  of 
temperaments.  He  was  a  man  of  few  words, 
often  not  speaking  for  hours.  One  would 
have  thought  that  he  was  asleep  but  for  the 
little  puffs  of  blue  smoke  which  were  emitted 
with  a  certain  regularity  either  from  his 
mouth  or  from  the  bowl  of  the  richly  colored 
meerschaum.  Whether  occupying  the  rocker 
in  his  room,  or  reclining  in  an  easy  chair  at 
the  end  of  the  gallery,  he  would  often  sit  for 
hours  looking  over  the  shaded  lawn,  the  rows 
of  negro  cabins,  and  the  broad  cotton  fields 
to  the  dark  line  of  green  woods  in  the  dis- 
tance, a  silent  but  always  an  observant  man. 

He  had  another  peculiarity.  All  questions 
that  were  put  to  him,  whether  simple  or  com- 
plex, he  answered  only  after  the  greatest 
deliberation.  A  conversation  with  the  Ma- 
jor was  a  memorable  event,  and,  to  a  nervous 


10  MAJOR  ROSSER. 

person,  a  trying  ordeal.  Generally  several 
minutes  elapsed  between  the  query  and  the 
reply.  Often  when  the  response  was  given 
it  had  been  delayed  so  long  that  the  ques- 
tioner had  forgotten  what  he  asked,  or,  that 
he  had  asked  anything  at  all.  Rapid  and 
numerous  interrogatives  never  disconcerted 
him  in  the  least.  He  took  the  first  that  came, 
ignoring  the  others,  carefully  weighed  the 
pros  and  cons,  slowly  delivered  his  opinion, 
and  then  proceeded  to  the  next  in  order.  The 
superficial  observer  sometimes  thought  that 
the  Major  was  either  lacking  in  intelligence 
or  was  not  interested  in  the  conversation, 
but  such  was  not  the  case.  Neither  was  he 
absent  minded,  as  some  thought.  He  saw 
and  heard  everything.  He  was  simply  cau- 
tious. 

Some  malicious  individuals  thought  that 
he  was  lazy,  but  they  also  wronged  him.  He 
had  an  independent  fortune  and  was  under 
no  necessity  of  working.  He  likewise  pos- 
sessed a  temperament  which  made  it  pos- 
sible for  him  to  enjoy  sitting  a  long  time  in 
one  place.  This  was  not  without  its  excel- 
lence, inasmuch  as  it  did  no  harm  to  any  one 


MAJOR  ROSSER.  11 

else,  and  brought  contentment  to  the  main 
party.  But  there  were  gleams  in  his  eyes 
sometimes,  and  occasional  lines  about  the 
mouth,  which  indicated  that  he  could  be  a 
fearful  man  in  the  matter  of  deeds  if  aroused. 

There  had  been  but  one  great  outbreak  in 
his  life  and  this  had  occurred  when  he  was 
twenty-one  years  old.  It  happened  several 
months  after  the  death  of  his  father,  which 
sad  event  left  him  the  sole  owner  of  Wild- 
wood  Plantation  and  the  solitary  occupant 
of  the  family  mansion.  At  that  time  he  re- 
turned from  the  county  seat  one  day  "rip 
roarin'  drunk,"  as  the  negroes  called  it.  He 
burst  out  of  the  woods  on  Black  Hawk,  who 
was  flying  like  the  wind,  a  crimson  faced, 
hatless  spectacle  of  intoxication.  The  reins 
hung  loose  on  the  horses  neck  and  in  either 
hand  he  carried  a  revolver  which  he  fired 
with  every  few  bounds  of  the  rushing  animal, 
looking  all  the  while  the  very  personification 
of  a  demon  of  wrath  and  destruction. 

He  swept  up  and  down  the  quarter  streets, 
knocking  over  barrels  and  chicken  coops, 
tearing  down  whole  panels  of  fence,  and 


Id  MAJOR  ROSSER. 

shooting  at  everything  alive  that  crossed  his 
path,  from  a  chicken  to  a  negro. 

The  slaves  fled  in  every  direction.  Some 
took  refuge  in  the  woods,  others  in  the  fields, 
and  some  even  went  to  neighboring  planta- 
tions where  they  reported  that; 

"Mars  Bob  Rosser  done  gone  plum  'stract- 
ed." 

It  was  three  days  before  all  the  fugitives 
returned;  and  the  whole  neighborhood  talk- 
ed of  the  happening  for  years. 

It  was  shortly  after  this  that  he  was  elect- 
ed Captain  of  the  Military  company;  every 
one  being  convinced  that  he  could  lead  men, 
and  charge  and  shoot  when  the  proper  time 
came. 

After  the  escapade  just  described  the  ow- 
ner of  Wildwood  resumed  his  usual  quiet 
life,  which,  judging  from  outward  appear- 
ances, did  not  seem  to  have  in  it  a  greater 
mental  and  physical  force  than  that  beheld 
in  the  beginning  of  what  many  would  have 
pronounced  a  dull  common  place  existence. 

At  the  age  of  thirty-six,  much  to  the  sur- 
prise of  everybody  the  Major  married.  At- 
tending a  fish  fry  one  day,  he  was  thrown  in 


MAJOR  ROSSER.  13 

the  company  of  a  black  eyed  widow,  the  re- 
lict of  one  Solomon  Crump,  a  school  teacher, 
who  died  early,  and  in  lieu  of  money  left  his 
wife  still  young  and  childless  with  what  wis- 
dom he  could  spare,  and  a  personal  property 
of  her  own,  made  up  of  those  arts  and  graces 
which  are  peculiarly  powerful  when  brought 
to  bear  on  character's  like  Major  Rossers. 

Some  men  have  to  tre  hunted  up,  petted, 
courted,  flattered,  and  almost  proposed  to  in 
order  for  matrimony  to  be  consummated. 
The  Major  was  such  a  man.  He  would  doubt- 
less have  been  caught  sooner  but  for  the  fact 
that  he  had  remained  so  much  at  home.  With 
Joe  to  blacken  his  boots  and  saddle  his  horse, 
Dilsy  in  the  kitchen,  Charlotte  in  the  dining 
room,  and  Rufus  the  driver  and  overseer, 
with  whom  to  talk  over  the  work  and  crops, 
he  had  not  felt  the  need  of  human  compani- 
onship and  hence  had  not  been  open  to  at- 
tacks from  the  female  husband  hunter. 

But  the  fish  fry  settled  the  matter.  On  the 
homeward  journey  the  carryall  in  which  the 
widow  was  riding  broke  down  and  the  Major 
drove  the  interesting  lady  in  his  buggy  to 


14  MAJOR  ROSSER. 

the  home  of  her  married  sister,  five  miles 
away. 

Mrs.  Crump  lost  no  time.  She  put  satin 
on  her  manners,  velvet  around  her  voice  and 
sighed  with  her  eyes  full  of  tears  when  he 
said  in  reply  to  her  question,  that  he  dwelt 
all  alone  at  Wildwood. 

She  was  not  yet  thirty,  passably  good  look- 
ing, and  knew  how  to  bait,  throw  and  draw 
certain  kinds  of  lines.  As  she  studied  the 
fish  by  her  side,  she  saw  that  a  scoop  net 
would  answer  far  better  than  a  delicate  hook 
with  an  almost  invisible  worm.  So,  taking 
up  the  net,  she  brushed  some  dust  from  his 
shoulder,  removed  a  horse-hair  from  his 
sleeve,  passed  her  dainty  handkerchief  over 
his  hat  which  the  wind  had  blown  on  the  bug- 
gy floor,  reached  for  and  returned  the  whip 
just  when  he  wanted  it  or  had  finished  with 
it,  and  cooed  and  fluttered  and  hovered  over 
him  in  one  charming  nerve  tingling  way  after 
another  until  it  was  evident  to  her  black  cal- 
culating eyes  that  the  being  she  wanted  was 
already  entangled  in  her  meshes. 

Her  thoughtful,  refined  ministry  was  so 
different  from  Dilsy's  rough  ways,  and  was 


MAJOR  ROSSER.  15 

so  superior  to  the  services  of  the  housemaid, 
that  the  man,  phlegmatic  as  he  was,  was 
deeply  stirred  and  began  to  find  the  idea  of  a 
mistress  of  his  mansion,  who  would  also  be 
a  pleasant  companion,  not  at  all  disagreeable. 
Before  he  left  the  house  Mrs.  Crump's  sister, 
playing  into  the  widow's  hand,  as  women 
of  this  relationship  have  been  occasionally 
known  to  do,  exacted  a  promise  from  the 
Major  to  "call  soon." 

"When  ?"  asked  the  Major  in  his  quiet  way. 

"O,  you  can't  come  too  soon,"  cooed  the 
widow,  with  her  most  captivating  smile. 

The  Major  came  the  next  day. 

The  two  sisters,  peeping  through  the 
blinds  of  an  upper  window,  saw  him  drive  in 
the  gate.  They  looked  at  each  other  with  a 
strange  expression  in  their  eyes,  and  then 
the  charmer,  with  a  glance  in  the  mirror, 
descended  the  stairs  to  meet  the  web  woven 
fly  whom  she  declared,  she  was — 

"So  surprised  and  yet  so  charmed  to  see." 

The  sister  also  gave  him  a  cordial  welcome 
and  later  in  the  day  proposed  that  the  two 
should  drive  to  Lover's  Leap,  and  sent  them 
off  with  the  laughing  admonition, 


1C  MAJOR  ROSSER. 

"Not  to  be  gone  too  long,  and  above  all 
things  not  to  jump  off  the  Bluff,  but  consent 
to  live  a  good  while  like  two  sensible  people." 

Mrs.  Crump  asked  for  permission  to  drive. 
The  horse  was  quite  spirited  and  the  Major 
was  frequently  compelled  to  grasp  the  reins 
to  assist  the  widow,  who  was  not  at  all  skill- 
ful, but  very  charming  in  her  helplessness. 
Sometimes  when  this  occurred  their  hands 
touched,  and  the  Major  finally  noticed  that 
every  time  this  happened  the  fair  one  would 
withdraw  hers  less  quickly.  Once  he  even 
ventured  on  a  slight  pressure  of  her  finger 
tips.  He  was  really  alarmed  at  his  own  tem- 
erity but  when  he  looked  at  her  and  found 
her  face  wreathed  in  smiles  he  breathed  free- 
ly again. 

When  they  returned  from  the  drive  they 
were  an  engaged  couple.  The  marriage  took 
place  two  months  later,  and  Mrs.  Crump  be- 
came Mrs.  Robert  Rosser  and  the  mistress 
of  one  of  the  finest  plantations  in  Missis- 
sippi. 

On  the  very  first  day  of  their  wedded  life 
the  Major  discovered,  to  his  profound  as- 
tonishment, a  talon  on  the  foot  of  the  dove 


MAJOR  ROSSER.  17 

he  had  brought  home  to  coo  for  him.  The 
second  day  he  found  another.  The  same  af- 
ternoon he  observed  that  the  bill  of  his  do- 
mestic pet  was  not  straight,  as  he  had  first 
imagined,  but  had  a  decided  curve.  On  the 
third  day  he  awoke  to  the  fact  that  he  had 
not  heard  a  single  coo  up  to  that  time,  but 
caws  and  croaks  instead.  On  the  fourth  day 
he  saw  plainly  that  the  bird  was  a  hawk  in- 
stead of  a  dove,  and  before  the  week  was 
complete  he  admitted  to  himself  that  he  had 
been  badly  sold  and  that  a  hell  on  earth  had 
begun. 

The  first  thing  that  she  did  was  to  drop 
the  "Major"  and  call  him  Mister  Rosser. 
"The  idea,"  she  said,  "of  a  man  being  called 
Major  who  had  never  been  in  a  single  battle." 

Then  came  endless  ridicule  of  his  habits 
and  "old  style  ways."  His  easy  chair  was  re- 
moved from  the  porch  to  the  cellar.  His 
guns,  pistols,  books,  horns,  pipes,  etc.  all  dis- 
appeared, and  the  quondam  old  bachelor 
apartment  became  a  woman's  bedroom,  with- 
out a  single  suggestion  of  male  occupancy. 
The  Major  never  felt  at  home  in  the  boudoir 


18  MAJOR  ROSSER. 

after  the  transformation,  so  he  seldom  cross- 
ed its  portal. 

The  new  ruler  also  changed  cooks  repeat- 
edly, and  Joe  was  banished  to  the  cotton  field. 
She  gave  Charlotte  a  cowhiding  for  drop- 
ping a  soup  tureen,  and  broke  the  plantation 
bugle  over  Samanthy's  head  for  being  awk' 
ward  in  handling  the  loom. 

It  was  a  study  to  watch  the  Major  as  he 
saw  without  seeming  to  observe  the  trans- 
formation that  was  going  on  in  his  house- 
hold. He  said  nothing,  but  quietly  smoked 
his  briar  root  pipe,  sitting  on  the  doorstep, 
or  on  a  settee  at  the  end  of  the  verandah.  His 
old  reclining  chair  had  disappeared  a  few 
days  after  Mrs.  Rpsser  made  the  remark  that 
it  was  "only  fit  for  the  ash  pile." 

The  servants  whispered,  grinned  and  won- 
dered at  the  unmistakable  subjugation  of  the 
husband.  The  neighbors  laughed  and  buzzed 
and  talked  about— 

"The  greatest  case  of  hen  pecking  ever 
known  in  those  parts." 

The  Major  smoked  on  quietly,  but  at  times 
there  was  a  strange  gleam  in  his  eye,  and  on 
several  occasions  he  was  observed  to  remove 


MAJOR  ROSSER.  19 

the  pipe  from  his  mouth  and  gazing  abstract- 
edly at  the  bowl,  speak  to  it  words  which  the 
bystander  could  not  hear. 

Mrs.  Rosser  might  have  taken  warning 
from  this  ominous  silence,  but  instead  of  do- 
ing so,  she  continued  to  twist  higher  the 
string  of  the  domestic  instrument  on  which 
she  was  playing;  while  remarks  which  she  at 
first  uttered  in  a  low  voice  intended  only  for 
the  ears  of  the  servants,  were  now  spoken 
so  as  to  reach  the  Major. 

"If  there  was  anything  in  the  world  she 
hated,  it  was  to  see  a  man  lolling  around  the 
house  all  day." 

"Men  were  of  no  account  anyhow." 

"A  woman  had  to  marry  a  man  to  find  out 
how  cranky  and  selfish  he  was." 

"About  all  that  most  men  were  good  for 
was  to  lay  around  the  house  and  poison  the 
air  with  filthy  old  tobacco  smoke,  while  their 
wives  slaved  themselves  to  death  from  morn- 
ing to  night." 

"As  for  her  part,  she  just  couldn't  endure 
a  lazy  man.  What  would  she  not  give  if  she 
could  lay  her  eyes  on  a  man  with  some  fire 
and  spunk  in  him." 


10  MAJOR  ROSSER. 

The  Major  heard  all  these  remarks  as  it 
was  intended  that  he  should;  but  gave  no 
sign  except  that  the  notrils  were  slightly 
distended  and  that  strange  gleam  would  ap- 
pear in  his  eyes. 

One  day  he  asked  the  servant  who  stood 
behind  his  chair  at  meals  if  he  remembered 
the  time  he  got  drunk  and  came  home  and 
cleared  out  the  whole  plantation  with  his 
horse  and  pistol. 

"I'd  lak  to  know,  Marse  Bob,  who's  gwine 
to  forgit  dat  day,"  replied  the  man,  "Hit  meks 
me  trimble  yit  when  I  ricollecks  how  you 
come  a  rippin'  an'  a  chargin',  and  a  whoo- 
pin',  an'  a  shootin',  right  and  lef,  all  th'u'  de 
quarters,  till  all  we  niggers  tuk  to  de  woods." 

A  most  plebeian  snort  came  from  the  thin 
nostrils  of  Mrs.  Rosser.  With  face  partly 
hidden  by  her  coffee  cup,  she  said  with  a  most 
provoking  smile  to  the  servant  girl  behind 
her: 

"The  idea  of  Mister  Rosser  getting  up  a 
stir  like  that.  It  is  too  ridiculous  for  any- 
thing." 

"Andy,"  said  the  Major,  "do  you  know  that 


MAJOR  ROSSER.  21 

I  feel  like  one  of  those  spells  is  coming  on  me 
again"  ? 

"Well  I  jes'  hopes  to  de  Lawd  dat  it  wont 
come  in  my  time,  Marse  Bob." 

Mrs.  Rosser  snorted  again  louder  'than* 
usual,  but  the  Major  took  no  heed  of  the 
curious  sound. 

"They  say  that  volcanoes  have  big  explo- 
sions after  years  of  inactivity.  Possibly  men 
are  like  volcanoes  in  this  respect.  It  has 
been  fifteen  years  since  my  last  explosion, 
hasn't  it  Andy?" 

"For  de  Lawd's  sake,  doan  ax  me,  Marse 
Bob;  'caze  I  don*  want  to  'member  nuffin 
'bout  dat  day." 

Mrs.  Rosser's  amusement  here  became  so 
great  that  she  had  to  leave  the  table;  but 
her  laughter  could  be  heard  from  the  pantry 
as  she  noisily  arranged  some  dishes  and  de- 
livered herself  of  her  opinions  on  the  sub- 
ject to  Charlotte. 

"I'd  like  to  see  Mr.  Rosser  come  home 
drunk.  I'd  give  him  such  a  reception  that 
he'd  be  glad  to  remain  sober  forever  after. 
My  first  husband  did  it  once  and  I  cured  him 
for  all  time.  I  put  him  to  bed,  had  his  head 


22  MAJOR  ROSSER. 

shaved  and  put  mustard  plasters  all  over  it. 
When  he  woke  in  the  morning  and  looked  in 
the  glass  he  fairly  raved.  Finally  he  asked 
me  why  I  treated  him  that  way.  I  replied 
that  I  thought  he  had  brain  fever  and  was  go~ 
ing  to  die,  so  I  did  what  I  could  to  save  him." 

"I  never  had  brain  fever  in  my  life,"  he 
said,  with  a  pleading  look  in  his  eyes.  "Don't 
ever  administer  such  treatment  again,  and 
don't  be  alarmed  when  I  come  home  in  the 
same  condition.  Just  put  me  to  bed  and  I'll 
pull  through  all  right." 

"No,  no,  Mr.  Crump,"  I  said,  "I'll  treat 
you  the  same  way  every  time  you  come  home 
in  that  condition.*  It  is  the  duty  of  a  wife 
to  do  all  she  can  for  her  husband,  and  if  you 
should  die  for  lack  of  proper  attention,  I 
would  be  miserable  all  the  rest  of  my  life. 
My!  how  I  laughed  when  he  left  the  room. 
But  mind  you,  he  never  came  home  drunk 
again !" 

The  woman  was  silent  a  moment  as  if  in 
pleased  recollection,  and  then  added: 

"Just  let  Mister  Rosser  dare  to  come  home 
'drunk  and  I'll" 

Here  she  brandished  a  carving  fork  in  the 


MAJOR  ROSSER.  23 

air  so  close  to  Charlotte  that  that  damsel 
had  to  execute  a  remarkable  leap  to  avoid 
the  prongs. 

After  this,  Mrs.  Rosser's  provoking  re- 
marks increased  in  number  and  she  pressed 
the  domestic  yoke  still  harder  upon  her  long 
suffering  and  silent  husband. 

It  had  always  been  the  custom  at  Wild- 
wood  to  dine  at  one  o'clock,  and  the  internal 
economy  of  the  Major  suffered  greatly  when 
that  time  arrived  and  there  was  no  dinner.  It 
was  remarkable  how  the  midday  meal  be- 
came later  and  later;  first  two  o'clock,  then 
three,  then  four  and  finally  showed  symp- 
toms of  reaching  the  period  of  five. 

Still  the  Major  offered  no  protest.  But  he 
talked  more  and  more  to  the  bowl  of  his  pipe, 
and  the  angry  gleam  in  his  eye  was  almost 
constant.  Mrs.  Rosser  might  easily  have 
seen  the  peculiar  look  which  he  turned  up- 
on her  at  times,  but  she  was  too  much  ab- 
sorbed in  herself  or  the  perusal  of  a  yellow 
back  novel ;  or  if  she  did,  she  gave  no  sign. 

One  afternoon  the  clock  struck  four  and 
still  dinner  had  not  been  announced.  Glanc- 
ing stealthily  at  her  husband  sitting  at  the 


24  MAJOR  ROSSER. 

end  of  the  gallery,  she  saw  that  he  was  talk- 
ing to  himself.  Calling  Charlotte,  she  bade 
her  go  softly  behind  her  master's  chair  and 
hear  what  he  was  saying.  A  minute  later 
the  servant  returned  and  reported: 

"He  sayin,"  Miss  'Livia,  Dis  emptiness  I 
kinnot  stan'. " 

This  information  afforded  Mrs.  Rosser  so 
much  pleasure  that  her  form  fairly  shook, 
and  she  kept  dinner  waiting  another  hour. 

On  another  occasion,  her  husband  was  so 
absorbed  in  a  volume  that  he  held  in  his 
hands  that  she  had  to  speak  several  times. 

"What  is  that  you  are  reading  so  intently, 
Mister  Rosser?" 

Lowering  the  book  and  looking  steadily 
at  her,  he  replied: 

"Volcanoes!" 

She  felt  a  peculiar  emphasis  was  given  the 
word,  and  it  brought  a  thrill  of  vague  alarm, 
but  it  soon  passed  away,  and  she  went  on  in 
her  usual  course. 

Everything  up  to  this  time  seemed  to  indi- 
cate that  the  wife  was  the  enthroned  and 
crowned  ruler  of  the  household.  And  just 
like  absolute  monarchs,  she  was  constantly 


MAJOR  ROSSER.  25 

testing  as  well  as  tasting  her  power  in  a 
variety  of  exasperating  ways.  Some  from 
their  very  littleness  are  not  mentioned,  lest 
it  be  construed  as  a  reflection  on  the  sex. 
Few  people  could  have  imagined  the  cat  like 
torments  to  which  she  descended;  but  it  all 
seemed  to  afford  her  the  keenest  delight. 
There  were  several  things  that  alarmed  her 
however,  and  one  shocked  her  to  such  an  ex- 
tent that  dinner  was  served  at  one  o'clock 
for  a  week. 

She  woke  once  in  the  middle  of  the  night, 
with  the  strange  sensation  that  someone  was 
looking  at  her.  She  usually  slept  with  her 
arm  over  her  face.  Opening  her  eyes  she 
glanced  up  quickly  and  beheld  Major  Ros- 
ser  standing  by  the  bedside  and  gazing  down 
fixedly  at  her.  There  was  something  in  the 
set  expression  of  his  face  which  was  really 
terrifying  and  she  came  near  crying  out ;  but 
just  then  a  window  sjammed  and  her  hus- 
band turned  away. 

Another  time  she  found  him  in  the  attic 
with  a  half  dozen  revolvers  lying  before  him 
on  the  top  of  a  flat  trunk.  They  had  all  been 
freshly  loaded  and  he  was  polishing  them 


20  MAJOR  ROSSER. 

with  a  piece  of  red  flannel  and  slipping  them 
back  in  their  holsters  which  were  attached 
to  a  large  leather  belt. 

A  few  days  later  she  overheard  a  conver- 
sation between  her  husband  and  the  negro 
driver.  The  talk  in  some  way  had  turned  on 
the  famous  episode  of  fifteen  years  before 
when  the  Major,  on  the  only  drunken  spree 
of  his  life,  had  charged  over  the  plantation 
as  if  a  thousand  demons  were  after  him. 

"I  kin  see  you  now,  Marse  Bob,"  said  the 
negro,  "a  bustin"  outen  de  woods  on  Black 
Hawk,  wid  yoh  eyes  sot,  hat  gone,  hair  a 
flyin',  a  whoopin'  an'  a  yellin',  Black  Hawk's 
hoofs  a  hittin'  de  road  a  blockerty-blockerty 
blockerty,  an'  dem  pocket  bull-dogs  o'  yourn 
a  barkin'  an'  a  sayin'  yer  bang!  yer  bang! 
yer  bang!  Who-ee!  how  we  niggers  did  brek 
for  de  woods.  Ole  Uncle  Sandy  whut  been 
laid  up  wid  de  rheumatiz  two  years  an'  moh, 
got  outen  his  cabin  as  nimble  an'  as  peart 
as  a  deer,  an'  even  big  fat  Nancy  cut  an'  run. 
I  nuvver  want  to  see  sich  a  sight  ag'in  'slong 
'as  I  live.  Marse  Bob  does  you  'member  how 
you  kilt  two  o'  yoh  bes'  cows  an'  put  a  ball 


MAJOR  ROSSER.  27 

in  Yaller  Tom's  leg  when  he  wuz  a  cli'min 
de  fence  tryin'  to  git  away  fum  you?" 

Mrs.  Rosser  drowned  her  husband's  reply 
with  the  stinging  sentence: 

"It  must  be  a  brave  man  indeed  Rufus, 
who  would  shoot  two  cows,  and  a  lame  negro 
who  was  only  trying  to  get  out  of  the  way." 

The  next  morning  Mrs.  Rosser  was  even 
more  provoking  than  usual  and  she  discharg- 
ed every  piece  of  feminine  artillery  she  pos- 
sessed at  her  husband.  As  for  the  Major, 
he  was  never  more  quiet.  In  fact,  he  seemed 
to  be  in  rather  a  good  humor. 

At  ten  o'clock  he  rode  off  on  Wild  Fire, 
a  fine  coal  black  stallion,  high  spirited  and 
unmanageable  by  anyone  except  himself.  He 
left  word  that  he  had  gone  to  the  County  Seat 
six  miles  away,  and  would  be  back  at  noon. 
At  that  hour  he  had  not  returned.  Neither 
did  he  come  at  one  o'clock,  two,  nor  three. 
Mrs.  Rosser,  accustomed  to  the  regular  ha- 
bits of  her  husband,  began  to  grow  restless, 
and  going  frequently  to  the  door,  gazed  an- 
xiously up  the  road  which  entered  the  forest 
some  distance  from  the  house  and  wound  its 
way  to  the  town. 


28  MAJOR  ROSSER. 

The  hall  clock  chimed  four.  The  dinner 
was  cooked  as  dry  as  chip.  The  sun  was 
hardly  an  hour  high  and  still  no  Major  Ros- 
ser. 

She  drew  her  chair  to  a  spot  near  the  win- 
dow from  which  she  could  see  the  entire 
length  of  the  highway  up  to  its  entrance  in 
the  timber.  Just  what  kind  of  a  reception  she 
proposed  to  give  her  tardy  spouse  is  not  cer- 
tainly known,  but  from  the  expression  of  her 
eyes  and  the  lines  about  her  mouth,  it  was 
doubtless  intended  to  be  a  memorable  one. 

At  half  past  five,  a  shot  was  heard  in  the 
woods.  Then  came  the  clatter  of  horse's  hoofs 
and  a  yell  that  was  simply  terrific.  A  mom- 
ent later  from  out  the  shadowy  forest  ap- 
peared her  husband,  hatless,  his  hair  stream- 
ing in  the  wind,  a  pistol  waving  in  his  hand, 
while  Wild  Fire,  half  mad  with  fright  was 
rushing  down  the  road  toward  the  house 
like  a  black  thunder  cloud. 

As  every  leap  of  the  thoroughly  maddened 
steed  brought  the  peril  nearer  to  where  she 
stood,  Mrs.  Rosser  unconsciously  put  her 
hand  to  her  breast  and  steeled  herself  for  the 
ordeal,  while  she  beheld  the  frightful  sight 


MAJOR  ROSSER.  29 

and  heard  the  periodic  crack  of  the  pistol 
with  the  alternating  whoop  of  the  rider. 

She  could  hardly  credit  her  senses  as  she 
viewed  the  crimson  face  and  rocking  form 
of  her  husband.  And  when  she  saw  the  horse 
clear  the  gate  without  touching  a  hoof  and 
come  dashing  toward  the  house  not  forty 
yards  away,  heard  the  crack  of  the  pistol 
again  and  then  a  window  pane  within  six 
feet  of  her  shiver  into  fragments;  though 
every  mental  faculty,  every  fibre  and  nerve  of 
her  body  was  in  a  state  of  the  highest  tension, 
yet  she  was  so  profoundly  terrified  that  she 
could  not  move  a  step. 

As  the  rider  passed  the  house  he  yelled  to 
her  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  with  a  most  dia- 
bolical expression  of  face, 

"When  I  (hie)  finish  up  the  quarters,  I'll 
(hie)  'tend  to  your  case  old  lady." 

With  this  startling  war  cry,  he  threw  the 
empty  pistol  in  her  direction,  breaking  an- 
other window  with  a  resounding  crash,  and 
wheeled  towards  the  quadruple  row  of  negro 
cabins. 

Such  a  commotion  as  took  place  there  had 
not  been  beheld  since  the  Major's  first  erup- 


30  MAJOR  ROSSER. 

tion  fifteen  years  before.  Men,  women  and 
children  fled  precipitately,  some  to  the  fields 
and  others  to  the  woods.  Wild  Fire  snorted, 
plunged  and  struck  fire  from  the  rocks  as 
he  swept  through  the  quarter  streets,  and 
such  a  medley  of  sounds  filled  the  air,  made 
up  of  the  barking  of  dogs,  gobbling  of  tur- 
keys, squalling  of  chickens,  squealing  of  pigs, 
with  the  shouts  and  cries  of  the  negroes,  to- 
gether with  the  poppings  of  the  revolvers 
and  the  yells  of  the  Major  that  it  verily  seem- 
ed that  Pandemonium  itself  had  been  turned 
loose. 

Mrs.  Rosser  with  her  hand  nervously  fing- 
ering her  throat,  stood  at  the  door  watching 
the  remarkable  scene,  and  listening  to  the 
distant  cries  of  terror  and  distress.  A  few 
minutes  later  when  she  saw  that  Wild  Fire 
had  been  turned  and  was  coming  back  to- 
ward the  house,  the  female  tyrant  suddenly 
vacated  her  throne,  and  without  any  fare- 
well address,  apologies,  or  explanations, 
most  ingloriously  fled  into  the  house  locking 
and  barring  the  door  behind  her. 

Major  Rosser  circled  around  the  dwelling 
twice,  shooting  in  the  upper  panes  of  the 


MAJOR  ROSSER.  31 

lower  windows,  whereupon  Mrs.  Rosser  rush- 
ed to  the  second  story  and  hid  under  the  bed 
in  a  back  room.  The  Major  promptly  ele- 
vated his  artillery  and  began  to  pick  out  the 
panes  in  the  upper  windows.  Immediately 
Mrs.  Rosser  sought  refuge  in  the  cellar. 

She  had  hardly  reached  this  place  of  re- 
fuge when  she  heard  the  most  terrible  sounds 
on  the  verandah  in  front.  Could  it  be  that 
the  Major  was  riding  Wild  Fire  up  the  steps 
and  on  to  the  gallery ! 

Yes!  and  not  only  this  but  he  had  turned 
the  horse  about  and  by  dint  of  using  the  spur 
was  making  the  great  animal  kick  the  front 
door  to  pieces! 

The  now  thoroughly  distracted  woman 
left  the  cellar  and  ascended  by  a  rear  stair- 
way to  the  second  story  again.  She  had 
hardly  reached  it  when  she  heard  the  front 
door  crash  in  and  her  husband,  whom  she 
was  now  convinced  was  insane,  rode  through 
the  wide  hall  and  into  the  parlor,  still  shoot- 
ing while  the  crashing  of  the  furniture  show- 
ed that  great  havoc  and  destruction  were  go- 
ing on  below. 

The  next  noise  that  reached  the  ears  of  the 


82  MAJOR  ROSSER. 

trembling  female  crouched  in  a  small  back 
room  was  one  that  fairly  froze  the  blood  in 
her  veins : 

Major  Rosser  was  riding  up  stairs  on  Wild 
Fire! 

Up  the  steps  they  came,  with  an  awful 
pounding  of  the  iron  shod  feet,  while  the  last 
of  the  pistols  was  discharged  and  the  Major 
yelled: 

"Let  me  get  at  her !  She  turned  my  house 
into  a  hell  and  now  I'll  give  her  a  dose." 

The  frantic  woman  stopped  to  hear  no 
more  but  raced  down  the  back  stairway,  shot 
out  of  the  door,  fled  to  the  barn  and  climbing 
into  the  loft,  buried  herself  six  feet  under  the 
hay! 


It  took  ten  of  the  strongest  negro  men  on 
the  place  to  get  Wild  Fire  down  stairs  again. 
Refusing  to  descend  as  he  had  ascended,  it 
was  necessary  to  blindfold,  push,  pull,  and 
half  carry  him  down. 

Major  Rosser,  when  his  wife  fled,  fell 
across  the  bed  without  removing  his  boots, 
and  seemed  to  sleep  heavily  all  night.  When 


MAJOR  ROSSER.  38 

he  opened  his  eyes  the  following  morning 
the  change  about  him  was  simply  amazing. 

If  his  marriage  had  been  a  dream,  or  we 
might  say  nightmare,  and  he  had  suddenly 
awakened  in  his  old  bachelor  apartments, 
his  surroundings  could  not  have  looked 
more  familiar. 

From  his  pillow,  he  surveyed  the  charming 
scene.  His  slippers  were  by  his  bedside;  his 
rocking  chair  in  the  old  corner;  his  pipes  and 
tobacco  bag,  his  blowing  horn,  powder  flask, 
and  shot  pouch  were  all  back  in  the  places 
where  he  had  kept  them  for  fifteen  years: 
his  walking  canes  were  in  their  rack  which 
he  had  not  beheld  for  months;  and  there 
was  his  double  barrel  fowling  piece  near  the 
wardrobe,  and  yonder  was  his  bootjack 
where  he  wanted  it — in  a  word,  everything 
was  as  it  had  been  until  the  interloper  ap- 
peared. 

A  pleased  smile  illumined  the  Major's 
features.  Evidently  the  smile  was  seen  by 
someone  else;  for  truth  to  tell,  Mrs.  Rosser 
after  making  the  transformation  or  rather 
restoration  in  the  apartment  while  her  hus- 
band slept,  had  retired  to  a  back  room  and 


84  MAJOR  ROSSER. 

with  her  eye  applied  to  the  key  hole  watched 
the  sleeping  man  and  waited  for  develop- 
ments. 

The  smile  was  the  sign  she  wanted,  and 
she  made  bold  to  come  in.  But  the  change 
in  her  was  more  wonderful  than  the  altera' 
tion  in  the  room.  The  Major  could  scarcely 
credit  it.  She  was  all  graciousness,  thought- 
fulness  and  attentiveness.  Mrs.  Rosser  was 
dead  or  departed,  and  here  was  Mrs.  Crump, 
with  smiles  and  graces  as  if  she  was  still 
angling  for,  and  trying  to  land  the  mascul- 
ine fish  before  her. 

The  beauty  about  all  this  change  was,  that 
as  the  days  and  weeks  went  by,  it  brought 
happiness  to  the  woman  herself,  as  well  as 
comfort  to  others.  She  felt  it,  and  every- 
body else  recognized  it.  As  for  the  Major, 
he  saw  to  it  that  she  lacked  for  nothing.  A 
new  carriage  and  a  new  piano  were  among 
some  of  the  material  exhibitions  of  his  ap- 
preciation of  the  metamorphosis  of  his  wife, 

Several  times  after  this  she  showed  a  dis- 
position to  reascend  the  throne;  but  the 
Major  had  only  to  take  up  the  book  "Vol- 
canoes," or  go  to  examining  and  oiling  his 


MAJOR  ROSSER.  35 

pistols,  when  Mrs.  Rosser  at  once  became  a 
living  combination  of  a  cooing  dove  and  a 
loving,  playful  little  lamb. 

She  lived  ten  years  following  these  events, 
and  passed  away  leaving  the  name  in  the 
neighborhood  of  being  the  most  devoted  of 
wives  and  faithful  of  housekeepers.  The 
Major  had  a  handsome  tombstone  erected 
over  her  grave,  and  helped  with  a  most  lib- 
eral hand  a  number  of  her  poor  relatives. 

After  eleven  years  of  connubial  experience, 
the  widower  was  thrown  back  upon  a  life 
similar  to  that  of  his  old  bachelorhood;  only 
he  resumed  it  with  a  stock  of  general  know 
ledge  about  women  which  he  certainly  did 
not  possess  when  he  launched  his  bark  upon 
the  sea  of  matrimony.  He  seemed  to  be  per- 
fectly satisfied  with  the  capital  of  informa- 
tion he  had  amassed  in  this  line,  and  did  not 
care  to  increase  it  by  any  other  investment; 
so  he  remained  in  a  state  of  singleness  the 
rest  of  his  days. 

One  afternoon,  while  smoking  his  favorite 
Kilikinick  tobacco  in  his  meerschaum  on  the 
front  gallery  in  company  with  an  old  con- 


88  MAJOR  ROSSER. 

fidential  friend  and  neighbor,  Squire  Stan- 
ley, the  visitor  said: 

"Major,  the  whole  community  says  that 
your  life  has  been  a  blameless  and  correct 
one,  with  the  exception  of  the  two  big  drunks 
you  got  on,  with  fifteen  years  intervening." 

The  Major  discharged  a  cloud  of  smoke 
toward  the  ceiling,  and  tapping  his  cheek 
reflectively  with  the  amber  mouth-piece  of 
his  pipe  replied: 

"I  was  never  drunk  but  once  in  my  life." 

This  statement  was  met  by  an  exclama- 
tion of  astonishment  from  the  Squire,  and 
the  polite  but  prompt  and  earnest  array  of 
proofs  as  to  the  actualness  of  the  two  sprees 
which  had  gone  down  upon  the  records  of 
the  neighborhood  History  as  having  un- 
doubtedly taken  place. 

"It  matters  not,"  returned  Major  Rosser, 
"what  the  people  say  and  how  appearances 
may  be  against  me,  but  the  Almighty  knows 
I  was  never  drunk  but  once  and  that  was 
thirty  years  ago." 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,"  said  the  visitor, 
with  his  eyes  fixed  steadily  on  Rosser's  un- 
moved countenance,  "that  you  were  not  in- 


MAJOR  ROSSER.  37 

toxicated  when  you  shot  a  dozen  balls  in 
your  house,  made  Wild  Fire  kick  the  door 
down,  and  rode  him  up  the  staircase  to  the 
second  floor." 

"As  God  is  my  judge,"  replied  the  Major 
quietly,  and  impressively,  "I  was  as  sober  as 
I  am  now." 

For  a  few  moments  the  Major  smoked 
reminiscently,  and  then  knocking  the  ashes 
out  of  his  meerschaum,  put  his  hands  upon 
his  knees  still  holding  the  pipe,  and  fixing  a 
steady,  truthful  look  upon  his  guest,  he  said: 

"One  single  gill  of  whiskey  was  all  that 
was  purchased  in  the  County  Seat  that  day. 
It  did  not  go  inside,  but  was  dashed  on  my 
clothes.  A  two  grain  dose  of  sulphate  of 
quinine  makes  my  face  turn  a  fiery  red  in  a 
few  minutes.  The  hat  was  left  purposely  in 
the  edge  of  the  woods.  The  wild  dash  from 
the  timber  was  as  carefully  planned  as  it 
was  executed.  The  pistol  shots  were  fired 
by  a  perfectly  trained  hand  intended  to 
wound  or  kill  nothing  but  a  bad  disposition. 
The  pistol  itself,  thrown  violently,  was  never- 
theless aimed  at  a  window  to  make  a  crash, 
and  add  to  the  panic,  yjild  Fire  had  been 


88  MAJOR  ROSSER. 

trained  in  secret  to  kick  anything  to  pieces 
when  goaded  by  the  spur.  All  the  whoops 
and  yells  were  put  on.  In  a  word,  the  whole 
thing  was  a  painted,  befeathered,  Indian-like 
demonstration  to  throw  "The  Tea  Over- 
board." It  was  the  Declaration  of  Indepen- 
dence, Battle  of  Lexington,  Capture  of  Bur 
goyne  and  Surrender  at  York  Town  all  in 
one.  It  obtained  at  once  from  all  foes,  do- 
mestic as  well  as  foreign,  the  instantaneous 
recognition  of  a  great  new  power  which  had 
arisen  with  a  strong  central  government,  and 
whose  president  was  elected  for  life." 

Squire  Stanley  gave  a  long,  low  whistle 
which  meant  volumes,  as  the  Major  conclud- 
ed the  lengthiest  speech  he  had  ever  been 
known  to  make  in  his  life. 

Rufus,  who  had  come  up  during  the  utter- 
ance of  the  last  half  dozen  words  and  had 
no  idea  what  was  being  talked  about,  took 
his  seat  on  the  bottom  step  and  ejaculated, 

"Bless  de  Lawd— dats  so!" 

Major  Rosser  refilled  his  pipe  with  fra- 
grant golden-colored  tobacco,  lighted  it  with 
a  coal  of  fire  a  little  darkey  brought  him  on 
a  chip,  leaned  his  head  back,  half  closed  his 


MAJOR  ROSSER.  89 

eyes,and  puffing  soft  clouds  of  blue  and  white 
smoke  in  the  air,  looked  as  pleased  and  con- 
tented as  Washington  must  have  felt  when 
he  received  the  sword  of  Cornwallis,  and 
soon  after  was  elected  the  Chief  Magistrate 
of  the  United  States  of  America. 


CHARLIE  GOODFELLOW 


CHARLIE  GOODFELLOW 


I. 

Charlie  Contrasted  with  a  Friend. 

I  possessed  in  my  youth  and  early  man- 
hood two  friends  who  were  perfectly  anti- 
podal in  appearance  and  disposition.  One 
had  the  face  of  an  undertaker,  the  other  that 
of  a  harlequin.  The  countenance  of  the  for- 
mer was  drawn  after  an  elongated  pattern, 
while  that  of  the  other,  moon-like  in  shape 
had  a  horizontal  line,  or  opening,  running 
clear  across  the  facial  country  with  marked 
tendency  at  times  to  reach  the  ears,  and 
which  Charlie  called  a  smile.  One  was  in 
a  chronic  condition  of  low  spirits;  the  other 
over-flowed  with  fun  and  good  nature. 

Cast  as  I  was  with  these  two  very  differ- 

43 


44  CHARLIE    GOODFELLOW. 

ent  companions,  I  was  naturally  affected  by 
the  centrifugal  and  centripetal  life  forces, 
and  doubtless  kept  in  a  midway  kind  of  or- 
bit, and  saved  in  a  sense  from  the  character 
tangents  of  either  side. 

All  honor,  however,  to  these  friends  of  my 
youth.  Both  are  today  under  the  sod;  the 
sunny  hearted  preceding  the  low  spirited  one 
to  the  tomb  by  twenty  years. 

The  hat  is  lifted,  and  a  flower  thrown  on 
each  grave  in  appreciation  of  the  sterling 
qualities  which  were  possessed  by  this 
couple  and  that  were  perfectly  apparent  to 
the  intimate  friend,  if  not  always  to  the 
casual  acquaintance.  Solid  worth  was  un- 
der the  jolly  exterior  of  Charlie  Goodfellow; 
and  a  faithful  loving  heart  beneath  the  mel- 
ancholy mien  and  speech  of  Downey  Mc- 
Knight. 

McKnight's  gloom  was  peculiar  as  the-: 
reader  will  perceive  in  a  moment,  and  mani- 
fested, if  not  relieved  itself,  in  more  than 
one  way. 

One  form  of  grief  expression  was  beheld 
in  poems  that  Downey  wrote  and  which 
were  invariably  of  the  most  depressing  na- 


CHARLIE    GOODFELLOW.  46 

ture.  Several  of  them  appeared  in  the  coun- 
ty paper,  and  every  one  had  something  to 
the  purport  that  the  winds  were  whispering 
low,  or  the  waves  were  murmuring  low,  or 
the  sun  was  sinking  low.  One  day  Good- 
fellow  told  McKnight  that  all  his  poems 
were  "low  down."  The  poet  gave  a  nervous 
start,  looked  pained,  and  after  that  for  quite 
a  while  the  ballad  changes  were  rung  on 
swell,  knell  and  farewell. 

I  am  confident  that  McKnight,  with  the 
exception  of  one  other  life  situation  or  con- 
dition, was  as  happy  as  he  with  his  tempera- 
ment could  be,  when  he  had  penned  one  of 
these  dirges  and  could  secure  a  listener  to 
the  funeral  song.  The  expression  on  his 
face  was  not  only  one  of  content,  but  actual 
joyfulness,  as  he  jingled  mournfully  along 
with  rhymes  of  care  and  despair  and  sever, 
never  and  forever.  He  was  one  of  those  be- 
ings who  seemed  glad  to  be  miserable. 

The  other  occasion  to  which  reference 
was  made,  and  wherein  Downey  surpassed 
himself  in  having  the  blues,  was  the  hour  in 
which  he  had  partaken  of  an  excellent  and 
bountiful  dinner.  The  better  the  meal,  the 


46  CHARLIE    GOODFELLOW. 

deeper  was  the  sadness.  Who  would  think 
of  such  a  thing?  And  yet  at  such  moments 
the  man  fairly  revelled  and  rolled  in  melan- 
choly. 

McKnight  evidently  enjoyed  every  mouth- 
ful. He  seemed  to  dispose  of  rich  and  luscious 
portions  with  regret,  as  if  reluctant  to  have 
them  leave  the  palate  and  throat.  And  yet 
the  pensiveness  of  the  face  and  the  tone  of 
sadness  in  which  he  spoke  would  be  most 
marked  at  this  very  time.  Moreover  the  sor- 
row was  after  a  crescendo  fashion,  growing 
as  the  meal  proceeded  and  the  courses  fol- 
lowed each  other  in  appetizing  order. 

As  McKnight  opened  his  napkin  and 
spread  it  on  his  lap,  he  would  heave  a  low 
sigh.  As  he  passed  from  soup  to  fish  his 
gloom  steadily  increased.  As  the  meat  and 
vegetables  came  on  and  dfsappeared  in  sec- 
tions, his  voice  took  on  a  husky,  smothered, 
pathetic  sound,  while  his  remarks  and  frag- 
mentary conversation  bore  upon  the  empti- 
ness of  life,  the  vanity  of  earthly  things, 
while  dark  hints  were  made  of  breaking 
hearts  and  despairing  lives  being  often  at 
pur  own  tables  and  yet  unrecognized. 


CHARLIE    GOODFBLLOW.  47 

At  a  desert  of  custard,  pudding-,  almonds, 
raisins  and  black  coffee,  to  which  Downey 
paid  the  most  devoted  attention,  I  have 
heard  him  say,  with  tears  standing  in  his 
eyes,  that  true  enjoyment  and  satisfaction 
could  only  be  found  in  other  worlds  and  ex- 
istences. 

After  this,  lighting  a  meerschaum  pipe  or 
Havana  cigar,  McKnight  would  stretch  him- 
self on  a  sofa  in  the  Library,  or  in  a  ham- 
mock on  the  porch,  and  blowing  the  soft 
blue  and  white  smoke  into  little  clouds  or 
rings  from  his  lips,  he  would  say  in  a  mel- 
lowed and  most  melancholy  tone  that  "life 
to  him  was  a  lonely  desert;  and  the  world  a 
howling-  waste."  He  also  said  that  "the 
star  of  hope  had  set"  and  that  "he  any  day 
would  gladly  hail  the  portals  of  the  tomb." 

The  fact  of  my  juniority  to  the  speaker  by 
several  years,  he  being  then  twenty-two,  was 
sufficient  in  itself  to  lift  him  on  a  high  pedes- 
tal of  regard;  but  when  in  addition,  Dow- 
ney's voice,  rich  and  oily  from  his  dining, 
came  drowsily  to  the  ear,  speaking  in  low, 
muffled  accents  of  desert  wastes;  stars 
setting  in  dim  misty  horizons;  and  lonely 


48  CHARLIE    GOODFELLOW. 

graves  under  sighing  pine  trees  or  by  the 
bank  of  sad  sea  waves;  the  effect  was  very 
fine  indeed,  and  I  greatly  admired  McKnight 
and  hoped  to  behold  life  as  he  did  when  I 
became  older. 

Still  the  effect  of  seeing  Charlie  Goodfel- 
low,  after  watching  the  star  of  hope  set  on 
McKnight's  sandy  life  plain,  was  very  grate- 
ful and  inspiring;  and  I  could  but  feel  that 
for  a  long  and  steady  pull,  and  for  a  whole- 
some journey  through  the  years  allotted 
man  on  earth,  the  cheerfulness  and  bright- 
ness of  Goodfellow  would  be  far  more  de- 
sirable. 

Unlike  McKnight,  who  had  a  good  income 
and  so  could  nurse  and  indulge  his  moods 
and  tenses,  Charlie  had  to  work  for  a  living. 
His  active  life  may  have,  through  the  bound- 
ing blood  in  his  veins,  thrown  off  the  mental 
depressions  that  belonged  to  an  existence 
of  sluggishness  and  inactivity,  but  more  than 
that  he  possessed  a  large  capital  of  good 
spirits,  and  so  was  a  good  fellow  in  disposi- 
tion and  manners,  as  well  as  a  Goodfellow 
in  name. 

He  started  his  business  life  as  a  clerk  in  a 


CHARLIE    GOODFELLOW.  49 

drug  store.  Our  more  intimate  acquaintance 
began  with  him  in  quite  an  unusual  way. 

I  had  stepped  in  a  Pharmacy  to  purchase 
some  little  articles  when  I  discovered  Good- 
fellow,  then  a  youth  of  eighteen  or  twenty, 
rolling  on  the  floor  in  what  appeared  to  be  an 
apoplectic  fit,  or  some  kind  of  convulsion. 
Full  of  sympathy  I  knelt  by  him  to  render 
what  assistance  I  could  by  lifting  his  head, 
chafing  his  hands,  etc.,  when  I  saw  that  he 
was  shaking  with  laughter,  his  face  wreath- 
ed with  smiles,  while  ha,  ha,  ha's  were  be- 
ing gasped,  coughed  and  literally  blown  out 
of  his  mouth. 

"Why  what  on  earth  is  the  matter  with 
you,  Goodfellow?"  I  asked,  pulling  him  up 
and  propping  him  against  the  counter  in  a 
sitting  position. 

His  reply,  as  he  wiped  his  streaming  eyes 
and  tried  to  control  his  voice,  was: 

"Just  sit  here  in  the  door  a  few  minutes, 
as  I  have  been  doing,  and  watch  the  faces 
of  the  people  as  they  go  by  and  you  will  see 
what's  the  matter  with  me." 

It  was  a  dull  business  season,  very  few 
coming  into  the  store,  and  so  Charlie  had 


50  CHARLIE    GOODFELLOW. 

been  entertaining  himself  by  observing  the 
human  panorama  as  it  went  by  on  the  pave- 
ment before  him.  The  result,  as  has  been 
seen,  was  his  collapse  on  the  floor. 

At  his  urgent  entreaty  I  took  my  position 
on  the  door  step  and  began  looking  at  the 
moving,  living  picture  show.  While  I  did 
not  fall  over  on  the  floor  like  Goodfellow, 
yet  I  began  smiling  in  a  minute's  time,  and 
in  five  minutes  laughed  until  the  tears  rained 
down  my  cheeks. 

The  full  power  of  the  Street  Vitascope 
can  only  be  realized  by  doing  as  Charlie  and 
the  writer  did;  for  no  description  can  do  the 
matter  justice.  It  requires  the  eye  vision, 
and  not  the  tongue  portrayal,  of  a  regular 
pavement  procession  to  enable  one  to  real- 
ize what  it  really  is  as  a  fact  and  effect.  I 
can  only  say  that  the  variety  of  faces  follow- 
ing in  quick  succession  and  these  same  coun- 
tenances bearing  every  kind  of  expression, 
makes  a  Vaudeville  Show,  the  like  of  which 
was  never  seen  on  boards,  stage,  or  platform 
of  any  kind. 

Some  physiognomies  look  pleased,  others 
angry,  some  glad,  others  sad;  some  pedes- 


CHARLIE    GOODFELLOW.  51 

trians  are  muttering  and  talking  to  them- 
selves, others  shaking  their  heads  solemnly 
in  an  absent-minded  way,  while  still  others 
glide  by  grim  and  grum  as  so  many  stone 
images. 

Then  will  come  a  group  of  grinning  idiots, 
next  a  long  undertaker  face,  third,  a  man 
pulling  his  nose,  fourth,  another  working  on 
his  chin  or  scratching  his  ear.  Some  have 
their  lips  drawn  to  one  side,  others  with 
mouths  wide  open,  some  cross-eyed,  others 
cock-eyed,  some  are  trotting,  others  are  pac- 
ing, and  in  a  word  the  diversity  of  the  street 
parade  is  so  great,  and  the  contrasts  com- 
ing so  quickly  and  unexpectedly  are  so  re- 
markable that  no  programmed  human  show, 
or  circus,  can  approach  in  a  thousand  miles 
of  it  as  to  numbers  of  actors  and  naturalness 
and  faithfulness  to  their  multitudinous  parts. 

It  is  a  Vaudeville  strictly  for  the  very 
poor.  It  is  gotten  up  without  advertise- 
ments or  cost  to  the  attendant;  doorsteps 
and  heads  of  alleys  are  reserved  boxes  with- 
out charge;  and  the  Play,  itself,  suddenly 
thrown  before  the  observers  convulses  with 
merriment  and  always  brings  down  the 
house. 


53  CHARLIE    GOODFELLOW. 

II. 

Charlie  with  the  Animals. 

Absent  from  my  native  town  for  several 
years,  when  I  returned  I  was  informed  that 
Goodfellow  had  purchased  a  poultry  and 
dairy  farm  combined,  located  a  few  miles 
out  in  the  country  and  was  now  residing  up- 
on it. 

Receiving  a  message  to  visit  him  and 
spend  a  few  days,  I  did  so,  and  found  my 
friend  pleasantly  domiciled,  while  his  work 
being  mainly  one  of  an  easy,  fitful  super- 
vision of  competent  hired  labor,  left  him  an 
abundance  of  leisure  on  his  hands. 

He  was  in  a  very  jovial  frame  of  mind  and 
told  me  that  he  was  experiencing  the  deep- 
est enjoyment  in  the  study  of  animal  life, 
while  he  was  constantly  playing  pranks  and 
jokes  on  every  creature  that  moved  in  the 
backyard,  poultry  enclosure,  stable  lot  as 
well  as  field,  and  that  in  the  fun  furnished 
him  by  farm,  lot,  stall  and  coop,  he  was  hav- 
ing the  time  of  his  life. 

He  informed  me,  with  a  radiant  face,  that 
he  had  greased  the  planks  of  a  little,  sloping 


CHARLIE    GOODFELLOW.  58 

bridge  which  the  cattle  had  to  cross,  and  the 
scene  which  followed  of  slipping,  stagger- 
ing, falling  down  and  mooing  aloud  surpas- 
sed in  its  entertainment  any  circus  he  had 
ever  attended. 

He  fastened  a  grain  of  corn  to  a  string  and 
then  would  jerk  it  away  before  a  rooster, 
hen  or  turkey  could  pick  it  up.  The  puzzled, 
surprised  look  of  the  fowls  as  they  turned 
their  silly  little  heads  from  one  side  to  the 
other  as  if  trying  to  solve  the  mystery  of  the 
vanished  bait,  set  our  friend  off  in  a  ringing 
peal  of  laughter. 

He  tarred  the  roosts  in  the  hen  house  and 
such  a  fluttering  and  squalling  time  at  once 
ensued  that  Goodfellow  stamped  around  on 
the  outside  of  the  chicken  tenement,  clapped 
his  hands,  and  cried  out  "It  beat  the  world." 

He  placed  duck  eggs  under  a  setting  hen 
and  hen  eggs  under  a  duck,  then  went  into 
ecstacies  ove»  the  confusion  which  followed. 
The  hen  of  course  went  distracted  when  she 
saw  the  ducklings,  that  she  thought  to  be 
her  chickens,  take  to  swimming  on  the  pond; 
while  the  duck  cranium  was  tried  to  the  limit 
to  understand  why  her  brood  refused  to  conic 


64  CHARLIE    GOODFELLOW. 

on  the  water,  where  she  was  so  much  at 
home. 

He  dressed  a  hog  up  in  a  bear  skin  and 
turned  him  loose  in  the  midst  of  the  drove, 
and  such  a  squealing,  scampering  around 
and  general  uproar  took  place  as  brought 
several  of  the  farm  hands  on  the  scene  with 
clubs  and  guns  in  their  hands  to  see  what  in 
the  name  of  the  National  Constitution  and 
the  Bylaws  was  the  cause  of  the  commotion. 

They  found  Goodfellow  rolling  on  the 
ground  and  hugging  himself  in  a  kind  of 
physical  knot  of  enjoyment  at  the  excite- 
ment and  hullabaloo.  The  men  came  in  an 
ace  of  shooting  the  disguised  hog  under  the 
impression  that  his  bearship  was  not  only  aft- 
er the  swine  in  the  lot,  but  had  already  fatal- 
ly wounded  their  Manager,  whom  they  be- 
held writhing  and  twisting  before  them  in 
the  dust. 

Another  evening  my  friend  was  skirting 
one  of  his  fields,  when  he  saw  a  shoat  some 
thirty  feet  away  coming  up  the  narrow  jim- 
son-weed  lined  path  that  ran  by  the  side  of 
the  rail  fence.  The  hog  was  trotting  along 
indulging  in  that  tremulous  chant  peculiar 


CHARLIE    GOODFELLOW.  55 

to  those  animals,  and  doubtless  absorbed  in 
anticipations  of  the  straw  sty  and  corn  pen 
awaiting  him  at  the  barn. 

Quick  as  thought  Goodfellow  turned  and 
stooped  so  that  his  head  was  near  the 
ground,  while  his  face,  upside  down  gazed 
through  his  legs. 

The  shoat  did  not  see  this  startling  spec- 
tacle until  he  was  not  more  than  ten  feet 
distant;  when  suddenly  he  was  confronted 
with  a  physical  phenomenon  for  which  he 
had  no  precedent  in  his  history  of  the  past, 
and  hence  no  word  to  describe  in  his  entire 
pig  vocabulary. 

He  instantly  stopped  his  chant  and  trot 
and  stood  with  one  foot  upraised  and  wear- 
ing a  look  of  profound  astonishment.  For  Lo ! 
here  was  a  being  of  some  kind  whose  head 
hung  between  his  lower  limbs  and  his  face 
set  upside  down!  What  could  it  be?  And 
what  must  he  do  in  view  of  such  an  unparall- 
eled monster  in  his  path! 

At  the  very  same  second  that  the  hog  de- 
cided it  was  most  prudent  to  retire  and  give 
the  strange  creature  before  him  a  wide  berth 
and  complete  right  of  way,  Goodfellow  slap- 


66  CHARLIE    GOODFELLOW. 

ped  his  hands  together  loudly  and  let  forth 
a  ear-splitting  yell. 

The  animal,  perfectly  panic  stricken,  gave 
a  big  "Whoof"  and  whirling  about  to  run, 
struck  his  head  with  terrific  force  against  a 
sharp,  projecting  fence  rail  and  was  instant- 
ly killed.  ' 

Goodfellow's  mirth  at  once  left  him.  The 
man  was  genuinely  grieved  over  the  pitiful 
occurrence,  and  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  stoop- 
ped  over  the  lifeless  form  and  with  sorrow- 
ful touch  of  his  hand,  said: 

"Poor  little  Piggie!"  I  never  intended  to 
do  this.  I  never  dreamed  you  would  hurt 
yourself.  I  am  so  sorry." 

Charlie  was  soberer  for  several  hours  than 
I  ever  knew  him  to  be  before.  Then  he  had 
an  additional  thought  to  increase  his  serious- 
ness, and  that  was  he  had  lost  ten  or  fifteen 
dollars  as  the  cost  of  his  practical  joke. 

But  the  fountain-like  good  humor  of  the 
man  soon  began  to  manifest  itself  again,  and 
that  very  afternoon  I  had  to  join  with  him 
in  a  hearty  laugh  over  one  of  his  experien- 
ces, as  he  called  them,  with  his  four-legged 
friends. 


CHARLIE    GOODFELLOW.  57 

A  little  before  sundown  he  took  me  out 
to  the  barn  to  witness  a  sight  which  he  claim- 
ed was  equal  to  a  Monkey  Show  with  a  hand 
organ  thrown  in. 

Stationing  ourselves  behind  a  large  door 
in  the  building  that  opened  into  the  lot,  he 
whispered: 

"I  have  trained  a  young  bullock  to  make 
a  regular  acrobatic  display  of  himself  every 
evening  and  exactly  at  this  hour." 

For  a  number  of  preceding  days  he  had 
hidden  himself  behind  the  portal  which  was 
then  concealing  us,  and  would  there  await  the 
approach  of  this  grave  looking,  young  bov- 
ine. Then  just  as  the  animal  would  get  half 
across  the  threshhold  Goodfellow  would  sud- 
denly appear  from  his  hiding  place  with  a 
loud  snort.  And  then  such  a  bellow  and 
scamper  on  the  bullock's  part  down  the  long 
dim,  shadowy  stable  to  some  remote  stall 
would  take  place,  as  can  better  be  imagined 
than  described. 

"Now,"  said  Charlie,  whispering,  "My  two 
year  old  friend  goes  through  the  whole  per- 
formance, leaving  nothing  out  of  the  pro- 


68  CHARLIE    GOODFELLOW. 

gram,  each  evening  at  this  hour  without  my 
having  to  say  or  do  a  single  thing." 

He  had  hardly  finished  this  information, 
where  here  came  the  animal  in  question  with 
a  sober,  meditative  look,  stopped  just  an  in- 
stant near  the  door,  gave  an  anxious  glance 
at  the  hiding  place,  got  half  way  through 
the  portal,  seemed  to  expect  an  interruption 
and  then,  suddenly  with  a  snort  and  bellow, 
let  fly  both  of  his  hind  hoofs  at  the  door, 
and  fairly  flew  down  the  long  length  of  the 
shadowy  stable. 

It  was  certainly  amusing  and  Charlie 
laughed  until  the  tears  of  mirth  streamed 
down  his  face. 

"Oh!"  he  gasped,  "there  is  a  heap  of  fun 
in  animals,  if  you  just  know  how  to  get  it 
out." 

I  had  to  return  to  town  the  next  morning 
and  did  not  see  Goodfellow  again  for  a 
month.  This  time  we  met  on  the  street. 
Taking  me  aside  he  said: 

"I  am  in  for  it  now." 

^ 

"What  do  you  mean?"  I  queried. 

"Oh !"  he  replied,  "I  am  afraid  my  humor 
with  animals  is  going  to  break  me  financial- 
ly." 


CHARLIE    GOODFELLOW.  59 

"What  has  happened  now,"  I  continued. 

"Well,  this  time  the  bill  is  not  fifteen,  but 
ninety  dollars  against  me." 

"What  have  you  done?"  I  asked,  now  quite 
interested. 

"I  will  tell  you,"  he  answered.  "I  was 
walking  out  on  the  bank  of  the  Yazoo  River 
yesterday  afternoon  and  saw  a  splendid  mule 
sound  asleep  by  the  side  of  the  road.  The 
animal  had  been  purchased  the  day  before, 
as  I  found  out  afterwards,  by  a  man  named 
Hobson,  who  owns  a  small  farm  in  my 
neighborhood.  The  mule  had  been  turned 
out  of  the  lot  after  a  trip  to  town,  and  lying 
flat  in  the  dust  had  fallen  asleep  in  the  drow- 
sy sunshine. 

"As  I  drew  near  I  noticed  one  of  his  ears 
standing  straight  up,  looking  so  like  a 
trumpet  that  I  could  not  resist  the  sudden 
temptation,  which  came  upon  me,  to  put  it 
to  some  practical  use.  So  creeping  up  soft- 
ly to  the  slumberer,  I  stooped  down  and  ap- 
proaching my  mouth  close  to  his  ear,  shout- 
ed in  a  stentorian  voice: 

"Are  you  asleep?" 

"I  am  sure"  continued  Goodfellow,  "that 


60  CHARLIE    GOODFELLOW. 

my  friend  in  the  dust  thought  that  the  Day 
of  Judgment  for  mules  had  come,  and  he 
was  unprepared.  He  made  a  sudden  leap 
upwards  and  sideways,  got  one  of  his  fore- 
legs doubled  under  him  in  some  manner,  and 
broke  it  at  the  knee. 

"His  owner,  after  a  talk  with  the  veteri- 
nary surgeon,  saw  that  the  animal  was  crip- 
pled for  life,  and  so  had  him  shot.  Mr.  Hob- 
son,  then  had  an  interview  with  me  after- 
wards, and  that  of  a  most  lively  character. 
During  this  conversation  I  was  not  allowed 
a  moment  to  express  my  regret  and  tell  him 
I  was  on  the  way  to  his  house  to  right  the 
unpremeditated  wrong.  In  the  hottest  lan- 
guage, and  without  listening  to  me,  he  told 
me  that  I  had  to  pay  him  ninety  dollars,  and 
that  at  once. 

"This  I  have  just  done,  coming  to  town  to 
do  it  and  feel  very  deeply  that  I  am  a  sadder, 
if  not  wiser  man.  I  have  made  up  my  mind 
also  never  to  ask  another  slumbering  des- 
cendant of  a  donkey  if  he  is  asleep.  Such 
kindly  inquiries,  or  office  calls,  are  too  ex- 
pensive. I  shall  allow  the  laws  of  nature  to 
take  their  course  in  the  return  of  animation, 


CHARLIE    GOODFELLOW.  81 

consciousness  and  reflection  to  every  long 
auricled  quadruped,  without  any  help  or  in- 
terruption from  me  for  the  balance  of  my 
life." 

By  this  time  Goodfellow  was  once  more 
in  as  cheerful  a  frame  of  mind  as  though  his 
pocket-book  had  not  been  drawn  upon  in  a 
way  that  would  require  several  months  of 
economy  before  it  would  be  restored  to  its 
normal  condition;  and  as  though  no  irate 
Mr.  Hobson  was  fuming  around  on  the  street 
and  in  stores  and  offices,  while  hotly  deliver- 
ing himself  about; 

"A  fool  of  a  man,  who  had  no  better  sense 
than  to  ask  a  fool  of  a  mule  if  he  was  asleep; 
when  the  biggest  idiot  in  the  land  could  have 
seen  at  a  glance  that  he  was  asleep." 

Mr.  Hobson  was  not  a  brilliant  man  and 
was  utterly  devoid  of  all  sense  of  humor  as 
well.  So  he  continued  his  strictures  to  an 
admiring  and  highly  amused  circle  of  listen- 
ers: 

"What  on  earth  made  Goodfellow  ask 
such  a  fool  question?  Did  he  suppose  the 
mule  could  understand  what  he  said?  And 
what  if  he  was  asleep?  Was  it  any  of  Good- 


62  CHARLIE    GOODFELLOW. 

fellow's  business?  In  the  name  of  common 
sense  can't  a  mule  go  to  sleep  without  be- 
ing waked  up  like  a — like  -a — like  a —  I  don't 
know  what!  Aint  a  mule  got  no  rights? 
Must  a  mule  have  his  ear  bawled  into  just 
because  he  is  trying  to  snatch  a  nap  between 
jobs  of  work?" 

When  these  red-hot  explosive  utterances 
were  repeated  to  Goodfellow,  he  fairly  doub- 
led up  with  laughter  and  said  between  bursts 
of  merriment: 

"Well  I  am  getting  paid  back  already  for 
my  ninety  dollars.  WThy  a  season  ticket  to 
a  comic  opera,  or  a  trip  to  the  Adirondacks 
would  not  begin  to  give  me  the  enjoyment 
I  am  procuring  out  of  Hobson  and  his  mule. 
And  even  when  Hobson  forgets  his  trouble, 
and  ceases  his  onslaughts  on  me,  yet  I  will 
have  the  memory  of  his  sayings,  my  opera 
will  go  on,  my  Adirondack  trip  will  be  ex- 
tended, and  all  without  any  expense  over 
and  beyond  the  original  payment  of  ninety 
dollars. 


CHARLIE    GOODFELLOW.  63 

III. 
Charlie  versus  Cupid. 

A  year  after  the  occurrence  just  related, 
Goodfellow  gave  up  his  farm  and  returned 
to  town.  One  day  I  asked  him: 

"Charlie,  why  don't  you  get  married  and 
settle  down?" 

"Nothing  would  please  me  better,"  he  re- 
plied with  a  smile,  "but  two  things  make  it 
impossible." 

"What  two  things,"  I  asked. 

"Well,  first  I  am  bound  to  take  in  consid- 
eration the  effect  of  my  nature,  or  tempera- 
ment on  my  children.  We  must  consider 
posterity,  you  know.  I  am  confident  that 
the  spirit  of  fun  is  so  developed  in  me  that 
my  descendants  would  be  born  incarnated 
jokes,  and  my  household  would  become  in 
time  a  Vaudeville  Show.  Think  of  being  a 
progenitor  of  a  set  of  clowns." 

I  had  to  laugh  over  this  presentation  of 
the  matter,  but  thought  I  would  upset  his 
arguments  by  the  next  remark. 

"Why  not  marry  a  very  melancholy  wo- 
man, a  girl  who  writes  obituary  poetry, 


64  CHARLIE    GOODFELLOW. 

speaks  of  being  misunderstood  and  like  our 
mutual  friend  McKnight,  accuses  life  of  be- 
ing a  desert  waste,  and  lays  charges  against 
the  star  of  Hope  that  it  is  setting  behind  the 
sand  hills  of  time." 

"Well,  right  there,"  replied  Goodfellow, 
you  bring  up  one  of  the  very  causes  §f  my 
remaining  in  a  state  of  celibacy.  Do  you 
know  that  I  cannot  get  to  the  point  of  pro- 
posing marriage  without  going  into  a  perfect 
spasm  of  laughter. 

"Twenty  times  I  reckon  I  have  tried  it, 
and  right  when  I  ought  to  be  tender,  sen- 
timental, serious  or  business  -  like,  here 
comes  up  some  old  fool  recollection  of  a  fun- 
ny thing  in  the  past ;  or  I  get  a  view  of  my- 
self as  a  meek  faced,  bald-headed  husband 
and  father;  and  then  I  go  to  grinning  like  an 
idiot,  or  exploding  in  laughter  like  a  gunpow- 
der magazine,  and  of  course  the  whole  thing 
is  off." 

Here  Charlie,  who  seemed  anything  but 
crushed  over  the  memory  of  his  marriage 
failures,  assumed  his  favorite  doubled-up  po- 
sition of  mirth,  and  looked  like  he  had  a  com- 


CHARLIE    GOODFELLOW.  «5 

bination  attack  of  sickness  made  up  of  swamp 
ague  and  a  case  of  apoplexy. 

"What  do  the  women  say  when  you  go 
off  in  your  fun  spasm  that  way?"  I  asked. 

"Oh!"  he  replied,  wiping  his  eyes,  "Some 
of  them  freeze  up  and  some  boil  over.  Some 
get  insulted  and  fairly  blister  me  with  their 
tongues,  while  still  others  sweep  out  of  the 
room  without  a  word  and  never  speak  to  me 
again." 

Exceedingly  entertained  I  kept  silence, 
while  Charlie,  in  a  kind  of  musing  tone,  con- 
tinued his  checkered  love  history. 

"On  one  occasion,"  he  said,  "the  girl  burst 
into  tears.  I  felt  sorry  for  the  position  I  had 
placed  her  in  by  my  idiotic  way  of  laughing, 
but  I  could  not  help  it.  And  what  do  you 
think!  Another  girl  pulled  my  hair  and  box- 
ed my  jaws !" 

This  last  remembrance  was  too  much  for 
Goodfellow,  and  over  he  wrent  on  the  sofa, 
shaking  with  merriment  as  if  he  had  a  con- 
gestive chill. 

"Why  don't  you  write  a  letter  proposing 
marriage?"  I  suggested. 

"I  have  repeatedly  done  so,"  was  the  re- 
sponse "and  it  was  as  complete  a  failure,  if 


6«  CHARLIE    GOODFELLOW. 

not  worse,  than  the  other.  Why  I  have  to 
tear  up  so  many  sheets  of  paper  trying  to 
compose  the  right  style  of  document  that  it 
not  only  affects  my  purse,  but  it  takes  more 
time  from  my  work  than  I  can  afford  to 
spare." 

Goodfellow  here  began  chewing  in  silence 
on  a  wooden  toothpick,  seemed  plunged  in 
retrospective  thought  for  a  few  moments, 
and  then  blowing  the  splinter  from  his  lips, 
resumed: 

"How  to  start  a  letter  is  the  first 
trouble.  If  I  begin,  say  for  instance,  'Miss 
Julia/  that  seems  too  formal.  If  I  commence 
'Dear  Miss  Julia'  I  invariably  think  of  dry- 
goods  accounts  and  millinery  bills.  'Sweet 
Miss  Julia'  is  unallowable,  and  ridiculous 
anyhow,  for  the  woman  is  not  sugar.  'Hon- 
ored and  Respected  Miss  Julia'  sounds  like 
a  petition  to  Congress,  or  the  Pulpit  an- 
nouncement that  the  funeral  services  will  be 
continued  at  the  grave." 

By  this  time  Charlie's  face  was  beaming 
with  pleasure.  He  certainly  realized  a  lot  of 
comfort,  somehow,  in  recalling  his  blunders 
and  failures  in  the  marriage  line. 


CHARLIE    GOODFELLOW.  67 

"One  girl",  he  continued,  "was  the  daugh- 
ter of  Colonel  Stake,  who  lives  down  the 
River  near  Satartia.  Well,  I  commenced  the 
letter,  'Dear  Miss  Stake';  then  tried  'Honor- 
ed Miss  Stake';  and  still  dissatisfied  at  the 
way  it  sounded,  altered  again  to  'Miss  Stake'; 
and  as  I  saw  it  was  a  "Miss  Stake"  all  the 
way  through,  I  got  one  of  my  spells  of  fun 
on  me,  and  laughed  all  my  love  out  for  the 
young  lady  before  I  could  stop." 

"Then,"  he  went  on,  "If  I  get  the  caption 
of  the  letter  all  right  and  satisfactory,  here 
comes  the  rest  of  the  effusion  in  which  1  am 
expected  to  say,  "I  never  loved  but  one," 
when  I  have  been  devoted  to  twenty.  By  that 
time  I  get  so  highly  amused  over  the  whole 
thing  that  I  cannot  proceed  further  to  save 
my  life. 

"Now,  notice  this  curious  fact"  pursued 
Charlie,  with  twinkling  eyes,  "if,  while  pen- 
ning the  letter,  I  have  a  laughing  spell,  then 
I  don't  want  the  girl  to  accept  me.  My  love 
seems  to  go  with  the  laugh.  So  what  on  earth 
is  to  become  of  me?  Don't  you  see,  as  I  have 
told  you,  that  mine  is  a  hopeless  case?  That 
all  on  account  of  this  queer  temperament, 


68  CHARLIE    GOODFELLOW. 

this  constitutional  peculiarity  that  I  have 
evidently  inherited,  I  am  doomed,  hopeless- 
ly doomed,  to  live  and  die  an  old  bachelor." 


STORIES  AROUND  A 
CAMP  FIRE. 


STORIES  AROUND  A 
CAMP  FIRE 


Four  white  men,  and  two  negro  servants, 
were  grouped  about  a  camp  fire  one  night,  in 
the  very  heart  of  one  of  Yazoo's  deepest  and 
most  tangled  swamps.  It  was  fully  a  half 
dozen  miles  to  the  base  of  Walnut  Hills  on 
the  east,  and  the  same  distance  with  a  similar 
stretch  of  dark  woods  to  the  river  on  the 
west.  North  and  south,  for  a  greater  num- 
ber of  miles,  an  unbroken  wilderness  lay  si- 
lent and  shadowy. 

The  flame  of  the  fire  lighted  up  the  slug- 
gish flow  of  a  bayou  on  whose  shore  the 
camp  was  pitched;  illumined  the  great  tree 
trunks  standing  thickly  around;  revealed  like 
a  silver  ribbon  a  spring  winding  down  a 
shelving  bank;  and  fell  with  fainter  glow  on 

n 


72  STORIES   AROUND   A   CAMP   FIRE. 

the  green  front  of  a  canebrake  which  pressed 
in  dense  ranks  on  one  side  as  if  meditating 
a  charge  across  the  stream  upon  the  dark 
phalanges  of  timber  beyond. 

As  resinous  knots  of  pine  would  be  thrown 
on  the  burning  pile,  the  increased  light 
brought  out  a  view  of  a  neighboring  slough 
with  cypress  trees  draped  in  long  streamers 
of  gray  moss,  cypress  knees  beneath  looking 
like  grave  stones,  rustling  fan-like  palmettos 
stirring  uneasily  in  the  variable  night  air  as 
if  agitated  by  something,  and  several  strange 
vista-like  openings  in  the  woods,  like  grass 
grown  and  long  forsaken  roads,  and  disap- 
pearing mysteriously  with  a  distant  bend  in 
the  black  depths  of  the  forest  beyond. 

Two  white  tents  were  pitched  near  the 
fire;  and  an  Indian  style  of  shelter  made  of 
Palmetto  leaves,  fronted  from  the  other  side. 
In  picturesque  confusion  could  be  seen  rifles 
and  double-barrelled  shot  guns  leaning 
against  trees,  while  pistol  holsters,  hunters' 
horns,  shot  pouches  and  saddles  and  bridles 
were  swung  to  limbs,  rested  on  logs,  or  were 
lying  on  the  ground.  A  remoter  view  showed 
horses  picketed  for  the  night,  crunching  gol- 


STORIES   AROUND   A   CAMP   FIRE.  73 

den  ears  of  corn  and  chewing  meditatively 
on  bundles  of  sweet  smelling,  yellow  fodder. 

The  Caucasian  element  of  the  party  con- 
sisted of  two  Southern  cotton  planters  with 
a  couple  of  visiting  friends  from  Yazoo  City, 
a  merchant  and  a  lawyer,  and  all  engaged  in 
that  peculiarly  fascinating  sport,  a  camp 
hunt. 

The  servants,  owned  by  one  of  the  cotton 
planters,  were  busily  engaged  with  coffee 
pots,  skillets  and  frying  pans  in  preparing 
the  evening  meal.  The  blended  odors  of  the 
fragrant  Java,  well  done  biscuit  and  juicy 
venison  steaks  not  only  struck  the  olfacto- 
ries of  the  men  agreeably,  but  aroused  a  deep 
interest  and  expectation  of  a  half  dozen 
hounds  lying  down  and  looking  on  from  a 
respectful  distance. 

The  turkey  hunt  at  the  early  day  dawn, 
the  later  drive  for  deer,  and  the  still  hunt 
by  torch  light  by  night,  had  all  been  success- 
ful in  the  past  two  days,  as  could  be  seen  by 
several  of  the  great  birds,  the  form  of  a  doe, 
while  two  bucks  swung  by  their  heels  from 
forks  of  trees  had  their  branching  antlers  al- 
most to  touch  the  ground. 

It  was  early  in  the  spring;  the  mosquito 


74  STORIES   AROUND   A   CAMP   FIRE. 

pest  time  had  not  commenced;  while  morn- 
ings and  nights  had  such  a  chill  in  the  air  as 
to  make  the  warmth  of  the  camp  fire  most 
agreeable  to  our  hunters,  who  sat  awaiting 
with  keen  appetites  the  announcement  of 
supper. 

Tin  cups  and  plates  formed  the  cut  glass 
and  silver  ware  of  the  feast;  and  hunger, 
sharpened  to  a  keen  edge  by  exercise  in  the 
open  air,  made  a  sauce  far  ahead  of  any  con- 
diment prepared  by  man.  But  fortunately 
there  was  superabundance  for  all,  dogs  in- 
cluded, and  as  Dave,  one  of  the  servants  said: 

"Dar  was  plenty  moh  whar  dis  come 
tan." 

There  was  much  cheerful  conversation  as 
the  meal  proceeded,  and  laughter  as  well, 
over  the  incidents  and  accidents  of  the  day. 

Pipes  were  then  pulled  out,  cigars  lighted 
and  gradually  a  thoughtful  pause  fell  on  the 
group,  while  the  woods  began  to  whisper  in 
the  night-wind,  the  cane  brake  stirred,  and 
the  palmettoes  rustled  their  fan-like 
leaves  a  moment  out  in  the  deep  shadows 
and  then  would  stop,  as  if  listening  to  the 
men  talking  around  the  fire. 


STORIES   AROUND   A    CAMP   FIRE.  75 

Of  course  amid  the  dark  spectral  woods 
all  around;  and  in  the  heart  of  a  great,  softly 
sighing  wilderness,  the  inevitable  question 
would  at  last  be  propounded: 

"Who  believes  in  ghosts"? 

The  instant  that  Major  LeGrange,  with 
his  solemn  and  deliberate  way  of  speaking 
uttered  these  words,  the  two  negro  men, 
Dave  and  Daniel  cried  out  simultaneously: 

"Laws-a-Mussy !" 

And  while  the  former  peered  into  the 
gloom  across  the  bayou,  the  other  glanced 
uneasily  backward  at  one  of  the  before-men- 
tioned road-like  vistas  that  began  not  far 
from  the  camp,  followed  a  straight  course 
for  fully  fifty  yards,  then  swerving  to  the 
left,  vanished  and  ended  in  the  blackness  of 
the  woods. 

The  white  men  all  laughed  at  the  excla- 
mation of  the  servants;  but  not  the  less  did 
several  of  them  take  hasty  glances  out  into 
the  surrounding  shadows,  as  though  they 
expected  to  see  a  fearful  face  peering  at  them 
from  behind  a  tree,  or  a  startling  form  flit- 
ting toward  the  group  from  down  one  of  the 
narrow  star  lighted  glades. 


76  STORIES   AROUND   A   CAMP   FIRE. 

Why  is  it  that  when  such  a  question  is 
asked,  especially  at  night,  that  a  kind  of  cree- 
py crawly  sensation  steals  up  the  spinal 
column  and  distributes  itself  even  to  the 
roots  of  every  hair  on  the  head?  Now  let 
the  query  be  propounded  not  only  at  night, 
but  in  the  midst  of  sighing  forests  miles  away 
from  human  habitations,  and  no  sound  but 
the  hoot  of  a  distant  owl,  and  see  if  the  in- 
quiry will  not  produce  a  sudden,  accelerated 
beating  of  the  heart,  accompanied  with  some 
peculiar  difficulty  of  regular  breathing. 

"Curtis,"  said  LeGrange,  addressing  the 
lawyer  from  Yazoo  City,  while  he  knocked 
the  ashes  out  of  the  bowl  of  his  merschaum 
pipe,  refilled  it  with  Kilikinick  tobacco  and 
lighted  it  with  a  coal  from  the  fire; 

"Suppose  we  all  tell  a  story  of  strange, 
uncanny,  ghastly  things  that  have  happened 
to  us  personally  at  some  time  in  our  lives; 
and  you  begin  rolling  the  ball." 

The  gentleman  addressed  as  Curtis  smiled 
and  said: 

CURTIS'  STORY. 

"My  life  has  been  a  busy  and  prosaic  one 
and  I  have  nothing  to  relate  of  an  actual  su- 


STORIES   AROUND   A   CAMP   FIRE.          77 

pernatural  character,  and  that  properly  de- 
serves to  be  ranked  among  real  ghost  stories. 
Still,  "he  added  as  he  removed  his  cigar  from 
his  mouth,"  there  was  an  occurrence  which 
took  place  some  twenty  years  ago  when  I 
was  about  twenty-five  years  old,  that  cer- 
tainly gave  me,  for  the  time  being,  a  very 
great  shock." 

"I  had  been  visiting  some  friends  several 
miles  away  in  the  country,  and  on  leaving 
them  after  eleven  o'clock  at  night  and  going 
out  to  the  front  gate  where  I  had  left  my 
horse  hitched,  found  that  he  had  slipped  the 
bridle  and  departed,  doubtless  for  his  livery 
stable  abode  in  town. 

"I  could  easily  have  secured  another 
steed  from  the  family  I  had  just  parted  with, 
but  not  wishing  to  disturb  them,  or  the  ser- 
vants at  such  a  late  hour,  and  being  strong, 
healthy  and  fond  of  walking,  I  concluded  to 
return  on  foot. 

"The  night  was  moonless,  and  very  clou- 
dy. A  fitful  wind  was  blowing,  now  roaring 
through  the  branches  of  the  leaf  stripped 


78  STORIES   AROUND   A   CAMP   FIRE. 

trees,  now  dying  away  in  a  sighing  tone,  and 
still  again  dashing  my  face  with  a  sprinkle  ot 
rain,  as  if  the  sob  of  nature  had  been  fol- 
lowed by  a  gush  of  tears. 

"I  walked  with  a  quick  step,  first  thinking 
of  the  pleasant  company  I  had  just  left,  and 
later  running  over  in  mind  a  brief  of  some 
coming  case,  and  had  made  two  miles  suc- 
cessfully and  without  interruption,  when, 
arousing  from  thought,  I  found  myself  ap- 
proaching the  cemetery,  which  is  located 
just  one  mile  from  town.  I  had  to  pass  on 
the  high  road  in  twenty  feet  of  the  white 
gate,  which  opened  into  the  silent  abode  of 
the  dead.  Owing  to  the  blackness  of  the 
night  the  grave  yard  itself  was  barely  dis- 
cernible, but  the  latticed  portal,  being  nearer, 
was  plainer  to  view. 

"Glancing  in  that  direction  as  I  was  going 
by,  I  saw  a  white  form  on  the  inside  of 
the  enclosure  leaning  against  the  gate  and 
looking  at  me  over  the  top  panel,  which  was 
nearly  five  feet  from  the  ground. 

"I  need  not  tell  you  that  the  shock  was 
great  and  that  for  moments  my  heart  seem- 
ed to  stand  still.  But  when  in  another  in- 


STORIES   AROUND   A   CAMP   FIRE.  79 

slant  there  came  a  strange,  low  moan  from 
the  spectral  object  looking  at  me,  my  horror 
was  increased  beyond  words  to  describe. 

"With  sheer  force  of  will  I  determined  to 
investigate,  and  turned  towards  the  entrance 
when  a  dash  of  rain  full  in  my  face  caused 
me  to  stop  a  moment  to  wipe  the  blinding 
drops  from  my  eyes;  and  as  I  looked  again, 
the  midnight  visitor  was  gone. 

"Walking  up  to  the  gate  with  no  little  ex- 
citement and  apprehension,  and  peering 
through  the  gloom  down  the  holly  tree  lined 
drive,  or  avenue,  I  saw,  fully  fifty  yards 
away,  the  faint  outline  of  a  form  in  the  re- 
mote shadows. 

"Summoning  up  every  power  of  my  being 
I  climbed  over  the  locked  gate  and  advanced 
towards  the  misty  looking  object  in  the  dis- 
tance. Again  it  melted  from  view;  and  again 
dimly  appeared  on  a  side  walk  that  ran  at 
right  angles  from  the  central  road.  As  I 
walked  rapidly  towards  the  apparition,  sud- 
denly it  vanished,  and  on  my  reaching  the 
spot  where  I  had  last  beheld  the  uncanny 
object  stand,  I  could  see  nothing  but  an  ar- 


80          STORIES   AROUND  A   CAMP   FIRE. 

ray  of  marble  slabs  and  tombstones  standing 
spectrally  about  in  the  darkness. 

"Just  before  me  about  fifteen  feet  away 
was  a  newly  made  grave.  As  my  eyes  fell 
upon  it,  suddenly  a  great,  white  form  arose 
from  it,  and  gave  a  blood  curdling,  heart 
breaking  kind  of  cry !" 

Curtis  paused,  and  the  breathless  silence 
in  which  he  was  gazed  at  by  the  other  five, 
showed  how  profoundly  his  narrative  had 
moved  them  all. 

At  last  Lester,  the  merchant,  said,  as  if 
unable  to  bear  the  suspense: 

"What  on  earth  was  it  Curtis?" 

The  lawyer  thus  addressed,  carefully  ap- 
plied a  match  to  his  extinguished  cigar,  and, 
after  a  few  whiffs,  replied  in  a  quiet  voice : 

"It  was  a  very  large,  white  New  Found- 
land  dog!" 

There  was  a  volley  of  "Oh's"  and  "Ah's 
from  the  white  men,  and  a  fusillade  of 
"Hehs!"  "Hunhs!"  /My  Lands!"  and  "De 
Lawd-a-Musseys"  from  the  two  negroes. 
Then  Curtis  in  answer  to  interrogating  eyes 
and  lips,  said: 

"The  newly  made  mound  contained  the 
body  of  the  dog's  master,  who,  I  found  later, 


STORIES   AROUND   A    CAMP    FIRE.  81 

had  been  buried  that  morning.  The  faithful 
animal  returned  to  the  grave  from  the  house 
after  the  funeral;,  and  in  its  instinctive  way, 
went  to  the  portal  at  midnight  looking  for 
help  for  his  buried  friend  and  owner;  and 
standing  with  its  fore  feet  on  the  top  bar  of 
the  gate,  gave  the  indistinct  moan  I  heard 
and  mistook  in  the  gusty  wind.  Evidently 
in  its  two  disappearances  in  the  cemetery, 
the  dog  was  leading  me  on,  and  finally 
crouched  behind  the  earth  hill  of  the  grave, 
waited  for  my  arrival.  Seeing  me  stand  still, 
it  leaped  up  and  gave  the  dismal  howl  that 
I  thought  in  my  agitation  was  a  cry." 

All  applauded  the  story  and  LeGrange, 
smoothing  his  brown  beard,  said,  it  was  a 
striking  narrative  and  deserved  to  be  ranked 
in  the  best  class  of  ghost  lore  and  literature. 

Ludlow,  the  other  Cotton  Planter,  a  culti- 
vated gentleman  and  a  man  of  known  cour- 
age proved  in  several  desperate  encounters 
for  which  he  was  not  responsible,  remarked 
gravely : 

"You  had  more  nerve,  Mr.  Curtis,  than  I 
believe  I  should  have  possessed.  I  think  I 
would  have  remembered  some  pressing  en- 


83  STORIES    AROUND   A    CAMP    FIRE. 

gagement  at  home  when  I  saw  the  ghost  at 
the  gate  looking  at  me  and  moaning." 

"Ef  dat  had  bin  me"  broke  in  Dave,"  when 
dat  white  thing  riz  up  and  busted  outen  dat 
grave,  I'd  ur  died  plum  daid  right  den  an' 
dar." 

There  was  a  laugh  over  Dave's  honest  con- 
fession, when  LeGrange,  turning  to  his  ser- 
vant said: 

"Dave,  can't  you  give  us  a  ghost  story"? 

The  young  negro  man  scratched  his  head 
meditatively  as  well  as  apologetically  and 
replied: 

"Marse  Ed,  I  ain  met  up  wid  no  ghoses 
myself  yit,  and  I  sholy  do  hope  ter  de  Lawd 
dat  I  nuvver  will.  Whuffur  I  want  ter  see  a 
gho's!  I  jes  nachully  would  drap  daid  in 
my  tracks  ef  I  seed  one.  Naw  suh  I  ain  look- 
in'  for  no  sech,  an'  I  ain  gwineter  look  fur 
no  spooks  an'  sperits.  You  done  huyrd  me 
say  so.  But  I  kin  tell  you  a  story  bouten 
how  de  devil  got  ole  Uncle  Lige  Johnson, 
whut  belongst  to  Col.  Middleton  on  de  Azoo 
River." 

"All  right,  Dave,"  said  the  others,  "tell 
us  about  that":  and  every  eye  was  fixed  in 
amused  interest  on  the  negro. 


STORIES   AROUND  A   CAMP  FIRE.  88 

The  servant  cleared  his  throat  several 
times  in  evident  enjoyment  of  his  position 
as  an  entertainer  of  four  prominent  and  weal- 
thy white  men,  and  began : 

DAVE'S  STORY. 

"Lige  Johnsin,  Marse  Ed,  was  a  nigger 
preacher,  and  he  was  a  mighty  one  on  de 
rousements  ob  ligion  an'  de  fires  ob  torment. 
Ive  seed  de  floh  ob  de  chu'ch  plum  kivered 
wid  people  squallin  an'  cryin'  w'en  he  brung 
out  de  pale  hoss  ob  Rebelation,  and  oncapped 
de  Pit,  an'  let  de  brimstone  loose. 

"Oh  Yes,  Preacher  Johnsin  was  a  great 
preacher.  I  hyurd  him  preach  once  boutin 
Balaams  Ass,  an'  I  tell  you  suh  I  could  jes 
h'yer  dat  Ass  er  talkin'." 

"I  haven't  a  doubt  of  it"  interjected  Major 
LeGrange,  while  the  other  white  men  laugh- 
ed. Dave  failed'  to  see  the  cause  of  the 
amusement  and  resumed: 

"Uncle  Lige  Johnsin  tuk  a  notion  dat  de 
wurl  was  gwineter  end  and  dat  soon,  an'  so 
all  dat  winter  he  had  de  cullud  folks  skeered 
haf  to  death  lisnin'  fur  Gabrul  to  blow  his 
trumpet. 


84  STORIES   AROUND   A    CAMP   FIRE. 

"He  would  rare  an'  jump  in  de  pulpit  an' 
crack  his  heels,  an'  say: 

"Dey  ain  none  o'  you  ready  to  go  but  me. 
I'se  ready  I  tell  you.  An'  doan  none  o'  you 
ketch  hoi'  o'  my  coattails  when  I'm  cotched 
up  wid  de  angels,  an'  speck  me  ter  pull  you 
outen  a  burnin'  wurl.  Naw  my  frens!  hit 
kain  be  did.  I'se  gwineter  look  outen  fur 
myself  dat  day." 

"Den  all  de  wimmin  would  cry  and  groan, 
an'  some  ob  de  men  would  look  glum  an' 
hang  day  haids. 

"One  night  two  white  gemmuns  laid  fur 
Preacher  Johnsin.  Day  say  dat  he  done  got 
de  nigger's  all  aroun'  so  frustrated  bouten*  de 
Jedgment  dat  day  couldn'  wurk  in  de  field. 
So  day  crawl  up  in  a  high  lof  ob  de  meetin' 
house  whur  Uncle  Lige  preached,  and  tuk  a 
big  tin  bugle  wid  dem,  an  jes  when  preacher 
Johnsin  was  er  tellin'  bouten  de  las'  day,  and 
he  was  de  onlys  one  ready  fur  it;  one  of  de 
white  gemmuns  in  de  lof  holler  out  in  er 
orful  voice: 

"Blow,  Gabrul,  Blow!" 

"An'  right  den  an'  dar  dat  udder  white 


STORIES    AROUND   A    CAMP   FIRE.  85 

man  blowed  on  dat  horn  three  long,  mohn- 
ful  sounds!  and  den  sech  a  screamin'  an' 
groanin'  an'  a  runnin'  hyer  an'  a  runnin'  dar 
mungst  de  nigger's  you  nuvver  see  in  all  yoh 
bawndid  days. 

"De  lights  went  out,  an'  de  men  scrouged 
an'  fit  fur  de  dohs;  an'  dar  was  Preacher 
Johnsin  er  runnin'  hyer  an'  dodgin'  dar,  try- 
in'  dis  doh  an  dat  one,  doin'  his  bes'  to  git 
outen  de  house  an'  mek  fur  de  woods  lak  de 
res'  o'  dem.  He  look  lak  he  done  gone  plum 
stracted. 

"Jes  den  he  seed  de  window  back  o'  de 
pulpit,  when  he  flung  hissef  agin  it  an'  bust  it 
out  and  jumped  fur  de  groun'.  But  'stead 
o'  litein  on  de  groun',  Uncle  Lige  landed 
straddle  ob  er  big,  ole  bull,  whut  was  er 
stannin'  dar  jes  under  de  winder. 

"Sholy  dat  bull  was  as  much  'stonished  as 
Preacher  Johnsin',  an'  off  he  tuk  down  de 
road  snortin'  an'  er  bellowin'  wid  Uncle  Lige 
er  sittin'  on  his  back  an'  holdin'  on  tight.  An* 
jes  as  he  whiz  out  on  de  big  road  befoh'  de 
chuch  whar  ebry  body  seed  de  'mazin  sight; 
Preacher  Johnsin'  lookin'  ashy  in  his  face, 


86  STORIES   AROUND   A    CAMP   FIRE. 

his  eyes  er  poppin'  out,  an'  er  trimlin  all  over 
holler  out: 

"Lawd  hev  mussy!  De  Debbil  done  got 
me  at  las' !  No  mohn  I  expected" ! 

There  was  a  hearty  laugh  all  around  the 
camp  fire  at  Dave's  purloined,  ancient,  moss- 
back  story,  which  had  doubtless  served  its 
time  and  generation  in  almost  every  slave 
state  in  the  Union;  and  then  Major  Le 
Grange,  loading  his  pipe  for  the  third  time, 
looked  at  Daniel,  who  was  giving  a  kick- 
kick-kick  kind  of  laugh  between  his  teeth 
over  Dave's  narrative,  and  said: 

"Now,  Daniel,  is  your  time." 

"Who?  Me!  Marse  Ed,"  exclaimed  the  old 
darkey,  counterfeiting  surprise,  and  yet  un- 
able to  conceal  his  satisfaction. 

"Yes,  You.  Tell  us  if  you  ever  saw,  heard 
or  smelled  a  ghost?" 

"Well,  Marse  Ed,  I  sholy  hev  felt  an'  smelt 
ghoses  many  er  time  as  e'v'ybody  has,  as 
has  bin  er  ridin'  thu'  de  woods  at  night. 
Dem  wahm  airs  you  meet  up  wid  dose  times, 
Ole  Granny  Roxey  Ann  say,  is  ghoses  er 
trablin'  aroun'.  But  I  kain  say  I  ebber  huyrd 
or  seed  er  ghos'. 

"De  nighis  I  kin  come  ter  dat  whut  youse 


STORIES   AROUND   A    CAMP   FIRE.  87 

all  er  talkin'  erbout,  was  when  de  Angel  o' 
Death  come  to  my  cabin  arter  me.  Does  you 
want  ter  hyer  bouten  dat?" 

'The  very  thing,  Uncle  Daniel"  said  the 
gentlemen;  whereupon  Daniel,  taking  a 
small  stick  in  his  hand  to  assist  gesticula- 
tions as  a  kind  of  wand,  began: 

DANIEL'S  STORY. 

"Hit  was  jes  erbout  foh  years  ago.  You, 
Marse  Ed,  had  bin  gone  ter  Europe  two 
years.  I  had  gethered  my  little  patch  o' 
sweet  taters  an'  bunked  'em.  I  was  er  comin' 
thu  de  woods  thinkin'  how  good  a  fat  pos- 
sum would  go  wid  dem  taters,  when  my  ole 
dog  Ring  treed  one  right  befo'  my  eyes.  I 
chopped  de  tree  down  an'  got  de  possum. 
Dat  vahy  night  I  had  jes  cooked  dat  same 
fat  possum,  an'  had  him  kivvered  aroun'  wid 
sweet  taters,  an'  de  rich  grease  an'  gravy  er 
comin'  down  his  sides  on  de  taters.  An'  I 
had  jes  put  de  dish  on  de  table  wid  my  mouf 
waterin*  at  de  sight,  an'  was  gwine  ter  de 
far  eend  ob  de  room  fur  a  chur;  when  dar 
comes  a  big  thun'rin'  knock  at  de  doh. 

".Who  dat?"  I  say  wid  my  voice  er  trim- 


88  STORIES   AROUND   A    CAMP   FIRE. 

lin';  coz  I  try  not  to  let  de  udder  nigger's 

know  I  had  dat  possum;  an'  den  de  knock 

was  so  loud  dat  it  sont  my  heart  right  up  in 

de  roof  o'  my  mouf.    So  I  say  all  in  a  trim- 

ble: 

"Whodatdaratdedoh?" 

"An'  a  monstus  deep  voice  say: 

"Hits  me,  de  Angel  ob  Death.  Let  me  in!" 

"An'  I  say,  wid  my  hair  er  risin'  and  a 

bristlin': 

"Whut  you  want,  Marse  Angel  ?" 

"An'  he  say  wid  dat  growlin'  voice: 

"I  done  come  fur  Uncle  Dan'el's  soul.  Let 

me  in.    I've  come  fur  you!" 

"I  felt  de  cole  sweat  er  drappin  offen  me, 

an'  I  say,  er  shakin'  all  ober: 

"Marse  Angel,     Uncle  Dan'el     doan  live 

hyer  no  moh!" 

"You  liar"  he  say  ter  me,  poundin'  de 

doh;  "I  know  bettah.    Youse  Uncle  Dan'el 

yo'hsef." 

"An'  I  say,  almos'  er  cryin'  an,  ready  ter 

drap  on  de  floh: 

"Marse  Angel,  an'  you  huyrd  nuffin'  tall 

bouten  whuts  come  o'  Uncle  Dan'el?" 


STORIES   AROUND   A   CAMP   FIRE.  89 

"No,"  he  growled  pressin'  gin  de  doh. 
"Whuterbouthim?" 

"Why  Marse  Angel,  dat  poh  unharmful 
nigger  he  done  bin  daid  an'  behied  gwine  on 
moh'n  two  weeks." 

"Oh  you  ole  liar"  de  angel  hollered  "He's 
right  in  dar  now,  let  me  at  him !" 

"An'  he  flung  hissef  agin  de  doh  wid  er 
orful  bang;  an'  when  he  did  dat,  I  jes  riz  an' 
went  thu'  de  back  winder  an'  lit  on  de  groun' 
er  flyin'.  An'  I  tell  you,  suh,  I  run  ober  two 
fences,  and  brek  thu  briar  patches  an'  nuvver 
stop  runnin'  'till  I  come  er  pantin'  an  er 
blowin'  to  ole  Brudder  Zeke  Green's  cabin 
what  was  a  preacher  ob  de  Baptis'  swasion, 
an'  who  lib  dah  wid  his  son-in-law,  Pete, 
whut  was  a  deacon  in  de  chu'ch.  I  tell  you 
dey  was  sutney  'stonished  when  I  tumble  on 
de  floh  an'  tole  'em  dat  de  Angel  ob  Death 
was  in  my  cabin  whar  I  bin  er  livin'  an 
haivin'  myself  all  dese  years." 

"Preacher  Green  and  Pete,  his  son-in-law, 
say  dey  think  I  bin  drinkin'  or  dreamin'. 
But  I  say,  Hi!  How  I  bin  er  dreamin'  when 
I  ain  gone  ter  baid  yit?  An'  how  be  in  baid 


90  STORIES   AROUND   A    CAMP   FIRE. 

when  I  was  jes  finishin'  cookin'  dat  fat  pos- 
sum an'  taters. 

"When  I  mention  dat  supper,  Brudder 
Green  say: 

"Whar  dat  possum  an'  taters  now?" 

"An'  I  say  I  lef  'em  on  de  table  when  I  brek 
thu  de  winder." 

"An'  den  Brudder  Green  and  Pete  hang 
day  haids  and  think  er  little,  arter  day  huyrd 
bouten  dat  possum  supper,  an'  den  say  day 
gwine  back  wid  me  ter  my  cabin  ter  look  in- 
ter dat  Angel  o'  Death  business. 

"So  day  tuk  a  blazin'  pine  knot  an*  a  couple 
ob  axes,  an'  we  come  thu  de  woods  back  o' 
my  house  an'  stop  to  lissen.  But  ev'ry  thing 
was  still  an'  dark.  Den  we  crep  'round  in 
de  front  whar  de  angel  med  de  racket;  an' 
dar  warnt  no  angel  dar;  an'  I  was  sho'  glad 
fur  dat.  But  my  doh  was  wide  open  whar 
I  spec'  he  bust  it  open  wid  his  hand;  an'  so 
Brudder  Zeke  Green  an'  Pete  walked  in  er 
holdin'  de  torch  high  an'  wid  day  axes  draw- 
ed,  an'  me  a  trimlin'  comin'  behin'  'em.  An, 
dar  was  no  angel  dar.  An'  as  we  look  closer 
dar  wuzzunt  no  possum  dar  nuther.  Day 
all  done  gone,  an'  de  taters  too !" 

"Den  Brudder  Pete  he  brek  inter  er  big 


STORIES   AROUND  A   CAMP   FIRE.  91 

laf  an'  say  he  ntivver  knew  er  angel  eat  pos- 
sum an'  taters,  speshully  de  Angel  o'  Death." 

"An'  Preacher  Green,  who  done  read  haf 
thu  de  spellin'  book,  arter  prowlin'  'roun  de 
room  an'  lookin'  mighty  troubled  bouten 
sumpin,  say: 

"Brudder  Dan'el,  you  bin  de  subjick  ob  er 
practil  joke." 

"Hi !  I  say,  whut  you  mean  by  dat  kin'  o' 
joke  you  call  practil  ?  An'  he  say : 

"Some  triflin'  nigger  done  skeer  you  off 
fum  yoh  own  baid  an'  boa'd  an'  sot  down 
an  eat  yoh  possum  an'  taters." 

"An' I  say: 

"Naw,  Suh,  dat  voice  was  too  deep  an'  turb- 
ble  fur  enny  man's  voice.  Hit  was  de  Angel 
o'  Death  I  tell  you,  an'  he  lef  de  doh  open, 
an'  de  dogs  got  in  an  eat  dat  supper.' 

"An5  preacher  Green  say: 

"When  did  ennybody  eber  see  a  dog  draw 
a  chur  to  er  table  lak  dis?  An'  whar  you  see 
er  dog  sop  er  plate  wid  a  piece  er  bread  lak 
dat?  An'  whar  you  know  a  dog  eat  possum 
meat  and  pile  possum  bones  on  de  side  o'  de 
plate  like  dis?" 

"Den  he  went  on ! 


92  STORIES   AROUND   A   CAMP   FIRE. 

"Naw,  suh,  dis  ain  nuffin'  tall  but  one  o* 
dat  rascally  Yaller  Bob's  practil  jokes.  He's 
got  jes  dat  deep  growlin'  voice  you  huyrd,  an' 
he  smelt  yoh  supper,  an'  he  sont  you  er  fly- 
in'  thu  der  woods  while  he  eat  yoh  possum 
an'  taters !" 

Dan  uttered  these  last  words  with  a  puz- 
zled expression  of  countenance,  while  rub- 
bing his  kinky  gray  hair  slowly  with  his  hand 
in  a  reflective  retrospective  manner.  Then 
suddenly  looking  up,  he  said: 

"Dats  whut  Preacher  Green  sayd  about 
hit,  Marse  Ed :  Whut  do  you  say,  an'  de  ud- 
der gemmens?" 

There  was  a  hearty  laugh  so  loud  and  re- 
sounding over  the  conclusion  of  the  story 
and  especially  at  Daniel's  question,  that  it 
set  several  owls  to  hooting  in  the  woods. 

Their  ha-ha's  and  who-who's,  somewhat 
sobered  the  circle,  and  the  mirth  was  all 
gone,  when  Major  LeGrange,  addressing  the 
merchant  from  Yazoo  City,  said: 

"Col.  Lester,  it  is  now  your  turn." 


STORIES   AROUND   A   CAMP   FIRE.  93 

COL.  LESTER'S  STORY. 

"We,  in  the  mercantile  life,  Major,  are 
too  busy  to  give  attention  to  the  matter  we 
are  talking  about  tonight.  We  have  "scares," 
panics,  drops,  slumps,  runs  and  such 
things,  but  not  one  of  them  a  ghost,  but 
something  far  more  real  and  substantial. 

"Personally  I  have  never  beheld  one  of 
these  graveyard  wanderers  and  midnight 
visitors;  but  last  year  on  a  business  trip  to  a 
distant  town  I  met  a  man  who  had  seen  one, 
so  you  must  be  content  with  a  second-hand 
apparition  in  my  narrative. 

"I  had  finished  my  business  in  the  place 
and  was  whileing  away  the  hours  before  bed 
time  in  the  hotel  office,  with  such  instrumen- 
tal means  as  cigars,  newspapers  and  occa- 
sional chats  with  one  or  another  of  tEe 
guests. 

"One  of  these  gentlemen  had  been  often 
to  the  community  before,  and  was  able  to 
give  me  much  information  relative  to  the 
surrounding  country,  crops,  people,  the  new 
railroad  that  was  approaching  and  other 
matters.  While  this  party  was  speaking  to 


04  STORIES   AROUND   A   CAMP   FIRE. 

me  my  attention  was  directed  to  a  person 
sitting  aloof  from  us,  bearing  the  appearance 
of  being  sick  or  in  trouble,  and  with  unmis- 
takeable  evidences  of  some  kind  of  dread  or 
terror  upon  him  which  he  was  endeavoring 
with  poor  success  to  conceal. 

"Seeing  my  eyes  fixed  on  the  man  inquir- 
ingly and  sympathetically,  my  companion 
said: 

'The  gentleman  across  the  room  had  a 
great  shock  last  night;  and  is  just  waiting 
for  the  stage  tomorrow  morning  to  leave 
this  "accursed  country,"  as  he  calls  it,  for- 
ever/ 

"What  was  the  shock?"  I  naturally  asked. 

"Oh!"  replied  my  new  acquaintance, 
"It  has  reference  to  a  house  about  two  miles 
from  town.  It  is  a  good  dwelling,  the  fruit 
farm  connected  with  it  can  be  made  first 
class,  the  land  is  the  best  on  the  market,  but 
the  house  itself  has  a  bad  name." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  a  bad  name?"  I 
asked. 

"Well,  the  first  Happening  connected  with 
it  was  that  the  man  who  did  most  to  improve 
the  place  was  found  one  morning  by  the 


STORIES   AROUND   A   CAMP    FIRE.          95 

neighbors  in  a  headless  condition,  stone  dead 
on  the  floor  of  the  front  room.  This  occur- 
red ten  years  ago  and  the  head  has  never 
been  found  to  this  day,  nor  the  murderer 
brought  to  light  and  justice. 

"It  was  quite  awhile  before  any  one  want- 
ed to  buy  the  home  where  such  a  deed  of 
darkness  had  been  committed ;  but  after  sev- 
eral years  the  horror  of  the  occurrence  wore 
off  some;  strangers  came  in,  and  one  of 
them  bought  the  farm.  He  spent  but  one 
night,  and  came  into  town  early  next  morn- 
ing1 looking  like  he  had  been  sick  a  year. 
He  went  straight  to  a  real  estate  agent  and 
sold  the  place  for  half  the  amount  he  had 
given  for  it.  He  tried  to  escape  giving  an 
explanation  for  such  a  hurried  disposal  of 
property  and  departure  when  only  the  day 
before  he  was  pleased  with  his  investment 
and  made  no  mention  of  leaving.  But  being 
urged  by  one,  to  whom  he  had  taken  a  liking, 
he  laid  his  hand  on  his  shoulder  just  as  he 
was  stepping  into  the  stage  and  said  in  a  low, 
awe  struck  tone: 

"I  don't  want  to  live  in  a  house  where  af- 
ter you  have  blown  out  the  light  and  gone  to 


9«  STORIES   AROUND   A   CAMP   FIRE. 

bed  a  man  without  a  head  will  walk  in  and 
sit  down  in  a  chair  with  his  form  turned  to- 
wards you  as  if  he  was  looking  at  you!" 

"The  same  thing  has  happened  twice  since. 
Strangers  buy  the  house,  stay  one  night, 
look  pale  and  sick  the  next  day,  sell  at  a 
sacrifice,  and  leave  the  town  to  come  back 
no  more." 

"The  last  occurrence  of  the  kind  took  place 
last  night.  The  house  had  been  empty  and 
the  land  idle  for  two  years,  when  the  gentle- 
man across  the  office  yonder  arrived  here 
seeking  to  invest  money  in  a  homestead.  He 
was  delighted  with  the  value,  possibilities 
and  especially  the  situation  of  the  farm. 
No  one  told  him  that  it  had  the  reputation 
of  being  haunted,  and  so  he  purchased  it. 
Then  buying  several  chairs,  a  table  and  a 
cot,  he  went  out  late  in  the  afternoon  of 
yesterday  and  took  possession. 

"Last  night  about  one  o'clock,  he  burst 
into  the  room  here  where  the  clerk,  myself 
and  another  gentleman  were  sitting  by  the 
stove  smoking  and  talking.  He  looked  like  a 
wild  man,  was  deadly  pale,  and  breathing 
heavily. 


STORIES   AROUND   A   CAMP   FIRE.  97 

"We  asked  him  what  was  the  matter? 
and  it  was  minutes  before  he  could  tell  us; 
and  then  while  he  told  us  he  kept  glanc- 
ing at  the  door  with  a  look  of  apprehension 
and  terror  that  was  pitiful  to  see. 

"He  said  that  when  night  came  on  after 
going  to  the  house,  that  he  had  a  frugal 
supper,  cleared  off  the  table,  made  up  the 
fire  in  the  front  room,  and  sat  down  to  think 
and  plan  for  the  future.  That  he  dropped 
into  a  slumber  as  he  sat  in  his  rocker  and 
must  have  slept  several  hours;  for  when  he 
awakened  the  fire  had  nearly  burned  down 
and  only  illumined  the  room  with  fitful 
gleams,  alternating  in  these  brief  flashes 
with  deeper  and  longer  lasting  shadows. 
He  was  just  stooping  to  push  together  the 
dying  embers,  intending  then  to  retire  to  bed, 
when  a  voice  behind  him  spoke  aloud: 

"It  is  a  cool  night." 

"Looking  quickly  around  he  saw  a  man 
without  a  head  sitting  in  a  chair  not  over 
eight  feet  away  from  him.  He  said  an  un- 
utterable horror  filled  and  nearly  blinded  as 
well  as  choked  him.  He  thought  once  he 
would  faint;  but  nerved  to  sudden  exertion 


98  STORIES   AROUND   A   CAMP   FIRE. 

he  gave  one  wild  leap  through  the  door,  an- 
other into  the  yard,  then  through  the  gate, 
and  up  the  road  he  sped  with  all  the  swift- 
ness he  was  capable  of  toward  town,  which 
was  two  miles  away.  The  horrible  feeling 
with  him  all  the  while  he  ran  was  that  "The 
Thing"  was  after  him;  but  hoping  at  last 
that  by  his  long  and  rapid  flight  he  had  dis- 
tanced it,  if  it  had  pursued,  he,  all  exhausted 
and  laboring  for  breath,  sat  down  on  the  end 
of  a  log  that  was  lying  by  the  side  of  the 
road.  His  race  had  been  nearly  a  mile. 

"Breathing  heavily  from  his  violent  and 
prolonged  exertion,  he  felt  that  he  must  rest 
a  few  minutes,  when  suddenly  the  same 
quiet  voice  spoke  near  him,  saying: 

"That  was  a  close  race  we  had." 

"Turning  quickly,  to  his  consternation 
and  terror,  there  at  the  other  end  of  the  log 
sat  a  human  figure  with  no  head  on  its  shoul- 
ders. 

"Up  he  sprang  again  and  rushed  like  a 
madman  along  the  road  towards  town,  and 
finally  into  the  hotel,  as  I  have  already  de- 
scribed. 

"He  has  remained  over  today  simply  to 


STORIES   AROUND  A   CAMP   FIRE.  9» 

sell  the  property  and,  I  understand,  took  one- 
third  of  what  he  paid  for  its  purchase.  He 
leaves  early  in  the  morning  on  the  stage. 
The  clerk  tells  me  he  will  not  go  to  bed, 
but  sat  up  in  the  office  with  him  the  remain- 
der of  last  night,  and  intends  doing  the  same 
thing  again  this  evening. 

"I  looked  at  the  man  we  were  discussing 
and  discovered  the  poor  fellow  had  fallen 
asleep  with  his  head  resting  on  the  palm  of 
his  hand.  The  face  looked  worn,  pale  and 
sad;  and  it  was  evident  that  his  slumber  was 
disturbed  now  and  then  by  some  inner  agita- 
tion of  mind  and  heart. 

"Next  morning  he  ate  no  breakfast,  and 
later  took  the  stage  for  a  neighboring  rail- 
road station.  I  saw  him  settle  down  on  a 
back  seat,  then  as  the  vehicle  started,  his 
face  appeared  a  moment  at  the  window,  cast- 
ing a  backward,  terror  stricken  glance  down 
the  road,  as  if  he  expected  pursuit  of  some 
kind;  and  the  next  moment  the  driver  pop- 
ped his  whip,  the  wheels  whirred,  and  the 
stage  disappeared  in  a  cloud  of  dust  taking 
with  it  the  unhappy  man  from  my  view  for- 


ever." 


100         STORIES   AROUND   A   CAMP   FIRE. 

As  Col.  Lester  finished,  there  was  a  pro- 
found silence  for  a  full  minute;  when  Major 
LeGrange  said: 

"I  think  I  can  give  the  true  explanation 
of  that  ghost  haunted  house." 

"What  is  it?"  asked  several  voices. 

"I  believe,"  replied  LeGrange,  "that  it  was 
a  set  up  trick  by  parties,  who  for  some  reason 
did  not  want  the  land  to  be  sold." 

"What  do  you  say"  interrupted  Ludlow, 
"to  the  idea  of  the  real  estate  agent  being 
at  the  bottom  of  the  whole  affair?  If  he 
could  sell  the  homestead  at  a  good  price  one 
day,  and  buy  it  back  almost  the  next  morn- 
ing at  a  discount  of  from  thirty  to  fifty  per- 
cent, then  repeat  the  transaction  every  year 
or  so,  I  can  see  how  it  paid  him  to  keep  a 
ghost  without  a  head  as  a  kind  of  silent  work- 
ing partner  in  his  business." 

All  laughed  at  this  explanation,  refilled 
their  pipes,  while  Daniel  and  Dave  put  fresh 
logs  on  the  fire. 

Major  LeGrange,  the  recognized  chairman 
of  the  night,  looked  across  at  his  personal 
friend  Ludlow,  and  said: 

"George,  we  will  now  hear  from  you." 


STORIES   AROUND  A   CAMP   FIRE.         101 

Ludlow  was  a  man  of  dark  hair  and  eyes 
and  possessed  the  courtly  bearing  and  easy 
grace  so  often  beheld  in  the  men  of  the  old- 
time  South.  He  began  in  a  musing  tone: 

LUDLOW'S  STORY. 

"I  have  had  some  very  strange  things  to 
happen  in  my  life;  but  would  prefer  to  tell 
you  of  a  circumstance  or  piece  of  history  in 
the  life  of  my  mother. 

"Most  of  my  family  came  from  Natchez, 
but  some  of  my  people  lived  and  died  in  Clai- 
borne  County.  One  of  my  grand-aunts  own- 
ed a  large  and  imposing  looking  residence 
which  commanded  a  distant  view  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi River.  The  house  sat  back  in  the 
midst  of  a  great  grove  of  forest  trees  of 
some  twenty  acres  in  extent.  Just  a  bare 
glimpse  could  be  had  from  the  highroad  of 
its  turreted  roof,  broad  verandahs  and  white 
pillars  that  towered  to  the  height  of  two 
stories;  while  the  drive-way  to  the  mansion 
curved  and  wound  about  under  timber  so 
lofty  and  crowded  as  to  be  shrouded  in  a  kind 
of  twilight  all  along  its  length,  even  at  the 
hour  of  mid-day. 


102  STORIES   AROUND   A   CAMP   FIRE. 

"My  Grand-Aunt,  now  a  widow,  had  once 
a  family  of  four  sons  and  daughters,  but  the 
girls  had  married  and  were  far  away  in  the 
North.  The  eldest  born  son  had  been  mur- 
dered in  these  same  woods,  and  the  second 
boy  was  a  wanderer  on  foreign  shores  and 
never  came  home. 

"Other  sorrows  came  to  the  white-haired 
mistress  of  the  mansion,  and  so  she  gradual- 
ly retired  from  all  social  life,  never  going  out 
herself,  and  receiving  but  few  visitors. 

"The  house  with  its  wide  halls,  broad 
shadowy  stair-cases,  and  twenty  empty 
rooms,  was  so  stripped  of  life  and  gladness 
that  finally  visitors  became  still  rarer;  and 
as  reports  began  to  spread  that  the  building 
was  haunted,  the  time  arrived  when  the  be- 
lated stranger  was  almost  the  only  guest. 
His  horse  would  be  well  fed  and  taken  care 
of  by  the  hostler,  and  he,  himself,  after  an 
excellent  meal,  would  be  conducted  to  one 
of  the  numerous  and  elegantly  furnished  bed- 
rooms; yet  such  was  the  chill  and  emptiness 
of  the  large,  echoing  dining  room,  the  gloo- 
my stretch  of  halls  and  passages,  the  vista 


STORIES   AROUND   A   CAMP   FIRE.         103 

of  door  ways  opening  in  a  line  through  libra- 
ry, drawing  room,  to  remote,  misty-looking 
parlors,  and  such  was  the  awful  stillness  and 
loneliness  of  the  whole  house  that  no  one  was 
ever  known  to  be  a  guest  the  second  time. 

"Then  it  was  whispered  that  some  of  these 
wayfarers  for  a  night  had  other  reasons  of 
a  harrowing  nature  for  not  coming  again. 
That  they  had  seen  and  heard  grewsome  and 
even  frightful  things  and  desired  no  more 
of  that  kind  of  nocturnal  experience. 

"Yet,  through  all  this,,  my  Grand-Aunt 
lived  and  continued  to  abide  alone  for  years 
after  these  events  had  taken  place,  and  others 
that  I  am  about  to  relate. 

"When  asked  by  friends  and  relatives  if 
the  house  was  haunted,  she  replied  quietly 
and  solemnly  that  she  was  compelled  to  ad- 
mit that  certain  things  took  place  there  that 
she  found  it  impossible  to  explain. 

"So  when  she  invited  my  mother  and  my 
mother's  sister,  who  were  her  favorite  nieces, 
to  spend  a  week  with  her,  she  said  in  her 
letter  to  them  that  they  must  come  expecting 
some  strange  happenings  in  the  house,  which 
she  could  not  account  for,  nor  prevent. 


104         STORIES   AROUND   A   CAMP   FIRE. 

"At  the  last  moment  my  mother's  sister 
was  taken  sick,  I  verily  believe  with  appre- 
hension, and  could  not  start  on  the  carriage 
journey  of  twenty  miles.  So  my  mother  de- 
parted and  arrived  alone. 

"It  was  a  blustering  Autumn  afternoon; 
the  leaves  were  falling  like  a  golden  shower 
all  over  the  woods,  and  made  a  royal  yellow 
and  crimson  carpet  for  the  wheels  to  roll 
noiselessly  over. 

"My  venerable  Aunt  met  my  mother  at 
the  door  of  the  jgreat  porch,  kissed  her  affec- 
tionately, and  sending  a  female  servant  with 
her  to  a  bed  room  on  the  second  floor,  await- 
ed her  return  in  the  Library,  where  a  bright 
cheery  fire  of  hickory  logs  blazed  and  spark- 
led on  the  large,  brass  andirons,  and  threw 
its  warm  light  over  thick  carpets,  rich  rose- 
wood furniture,  and  stately  looking  family 
portraits. 

"My  mother  felt  a  sense  of  oppression  the 
instant  she  entered  the  house;  and  the  re- 
moteness and  loneliness  of  her  apartment, 
with  its  great  curtained  and  testered  bed, 
dark  frame  mirrors,  and  tall  solemn  looking 
mahogany  wardrobes,  did  not  add  to  her 


STORIES   AROUND   A    CAMP   FIRE.         105 

cheerfulness  and  courage.  But  in  the  Libra- 
ry, before  the  cozy  fire,  talking  over  family 
matters  with  her  Aunt,  she  soon  became  her 
bright,  natural  self  again. 

"Mean  time  the  wind  had  lulled  and  the 
evening  shadows  filling  the  woods  began  to 
creep  towards  and  fall  upon  the  house. 

"It  was  about  five  in  the  afternoon  and 
the  two  ladies  were  quietly  conversing,  when 
suddenly  the  door  which  led  into  the  hall 
opened  wide  and  then  shut  again  with  a  loud 
noise. 

"My  mother  instantly  sprang  to  the  por- 
tal, opened  it,  and  looked  up  and  down  the 
broad  passage  and  towards  the  wide  stair- 
case, which  led  to  the  second  floor;  but  not 
a  soul  was  in  sight !  It  would  have  been  im- 
possible for  the  fleetest  of  human  beings  to 
have  escaped  detection,  so  swift  had  been 
the  movement  and  act  of  my  mother. 

"Naturally  she  was  much  agitated,  and  in 
returning  to  the  side  of  her  Aunt,  noticed 
that  she  had  given  no  sign  of  the  strange 
occurrence,  save  by  an  increased  pallor  and  a 
profounder  sadness.  My  mother  said: 

"What  is  that,  Aunt  Mary?" 


106         STORIES   AROUND   A    CAMP   FIRE. 

And  the  aged  woman's  reply  was: 

"I  cannot  tell,  for  I  do  not  know."  Then 
bowing  her  face  on  her  hands,  she  rocked  in 
that  positioft  for  some  minutes,  then  quietly 
resumed  her  work  of  crocheting. 

"Nothing  else  happened  the  rest  of  the 
afternoon.  But,  when  supper  was  over  my 
mother  could  not  but  observe  that  the  ser- 
vants seemed  to  hurry  their  work  as  if  an- 
xious to  get  out  of  the  house  and  away  as 
soon  as  possible.  Their  own  cottage  and 
log  cabin  homes  in  the  yard  or  more  distant 
field  were  small  and  humble;  but  doubtless 
their  occupants  reflected  that  they  were 
abodes  of  peace  and  all  the  more  to  be  de- 
sired in  that  they  had  no  ghostly,  superna- 
tural visitants  disturbing  their  tranquility 
by  day  and  their  rest  by  night. 

"Do  none  of  the  servants  stay  here  in  the 
house  all  night?"  asked  my  mother,  as  the 
two  ladies  returned  from  the  dining  room  to 
the  Library. 

"No,"  was  the  quiet  reply.  "They  cannot 
stand  the  strange  occurrences  taking  place 
again  and  again;  so  I  sleep  here  all  alone  in 
the  house,  except  now  and  then  when  I  have 


STORIES   AROUND  A   CAMP  FIRE.         107 

a  visitor  like  yourself,  or  some  traveller  asks 
for  hospitality  for  a  night." 

"I  think  you  are  a  very  courageous  wo- 
man," said  my  mother.  "It  is  simply  won- 
derful how  you  can  live  such  a  lonely  life, 
meeting  these  shocks  of  mind  and  nerve  so 
often,  and  yet  not  go  down  under  them,  or 
run  from  their  cause." 

"The  conversation  went  on  between  the 
two;  and  they  spoke  of  the  Fox  sisters,  with 
their  discovered  and  exposed  fraudulent 
table  rapping;  the  Cock  Lane  Ghost,  which 
proved  to  be  another  imposition  on  the  pub- 
lic; and  the  mysterious  happenings  at  the  Ep- 
worth  Rectory,  when  occupied  by  the  Wes- 
leys,  concerning  which  strange  occurrences 
the  godly,  sensible  parents  of  John  Wesley 
could  give  no  explanation,  and  about  which 
the  great  Founder  of  Methodism  himself, 
was  remarkably  reticent  all  his  life. 

"It  was  nearing  the  hour  of  midnight,  and 
the  two  women  were  just  arising  to  retire 
to  their  bedrooms,  when  heavy  steps  were 
heard  walking  on  the  floor  of  the  room  just 
above  them. 

"My  Grand-Aunt  said  to  my  mother : 


108         STORIES   AROUND   A   CAMP   FIRE. 

"The  room  above  us  is  locked,  the  win- 
dows barred,  and  no  human  being  can  go  in 
or  out,  such  is  the  peculiar  key  and  fasten- 
ing. Now,  we  will  go  up  together  to  see,  as 
I  have  often  done  before  alone." 

"So  taking  a  pistol  in  one  hand  and  a  Bible 
in  the  other,  thus  prepared  for  natural  and 
supernatural  beings,  she  approached  the  Li- 
brary door  that  opened  into  the  great  central 
hall,  with  my  mother  clinging  close  to  her. 

"To  my  mother's  amazement  they  could 
not  stir  the  portal.  It  was  not  locked,  but  in 
turning  the  knob  it  was  as  though  some  kind 
of  power  held  the  door  fast  from  the  hall 
side.  It  was  in  vain  they  struggled  unitedly 
with  it;  it  would  not  yield.  When  suddenly 
it  flew  open,  nearly  striking  them  in  the  face, 
and  a  dreadful  feeling,  as  if  a  presence  had 
entered  the  room,  swept  over  them. 

"My  mother  said  her  blood  seemed  to  turn 
to  an  icy  coldness  in  her  veins;  but  not  dar- 
ing to  remain  in  the  room  with  the  "Pre- 
sence," she  quickly  followed  her  Aunt  into 
the  hall,  up  the  stairway  to  the  hall  above, 
and  then  toward  the  apartment  where  they 
had  heard  the  sound  of  walking. 


STORIES   AROUND   A   CAMP   FIRE.         109 

"As  said  before,  the  door  of  this  bed  cham- 
ber was  locked.  On  opening  it  and  turning 
the  light  of  the  lamp  into  the  room  nothing 
could  be  seen  but  a  handsomely  furnished 
apartment  where  every  window  was  barred 
on  the  inside,  and  the  one  closet,  on  inves- 
tigation, revealed  only  emptiness. 

"There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  return  to 
the  Library,  where  they  had  hardly  seated 
themselves,  when  the  heavy  steps  were  heard 
again  in  the  room  above,  then  out  in  the  hall, 
next  coming  with  a  steady  tread  down  the 
stairs,  and  then  towards  the  Library  door, 
which  the  pale  faced,  agitated  women  had 
closed  behind  them. 

"In  another  instant  the  door  was  flung 
open,  and  the  steps  went  deliberately  across 
the  room  and  stopped  in  front  of  the  shrink- 
ing, trembling,  terrified  females,  as  if  the 
"Presence"  was  looking  at  them! 

"My  mother  at  this  juncture  fainted  dead 
away  on  the  floor ! 

"When  she  returned  to  consciousness  her 
head  was  resting  on  a  sofa  cushion  or  pillow, 
while  her  Aunt  was  bathing  her  face  with 
camphor  chafing  her  hands  and  trying  in 
various  ways  to  resuscitate  her. 


110        STORIES  AROUND  A  CAMP  FIRE. 

"Where  is  that  dreadful  Thing?"  gasped 
my  mother,  turning  an  appalled  look  towards 
the  door.  Her  Aunt  replied: 

"It  has  been  gone  an  hour,  and  will  dis- 
turb us  no  more  tonight.  Poor  Child,  I  am 
sorry  that  you  came  to  visit  me." 

"She  had  hardly  gotten  the  words  out  of 
her  mouth  when  a  violent  blow  like  a  brick 
hurled  by  a  powerful  hand  struck  the  side  of 
the  house. 

"Leaping  to  their  feet  and  running  to  the 
window  nearest  the  sound,  the  women  had 
an  uninterrupted  view  of  a  broad  lawn  flood- 
ed with  the  soft  moonlight,  and  there  was 
not  a  living  creature  of  any  kind  in  sight. 

"Closing  the  shutters  and  dropping  the 
curtain,  the  Aunt  and  Niece  rolled  a  sofa  up 
near  the  fire,  which  they  replenished,  and  sat 
down,  both  deadly  pale  and  conversing  in 
low  tones. 

"Finally  my  mother  said:  'Aunt  Mary 
again  I  have  to  say  that  I  think  you  are  a 
very  brave  woman  to  endure  all  these  dread- 
ful happenings  for  months  and  years,  and  all 
alone !' 


STORIES   AROUND  A   CAMP   FIRE.         Ill 

"Remember,"  replied  the  other,  "It  does 
not  happen  every  night.  Sometimes  a  month 
goes  by  without  a  thing  occurring.  This  time 
it  has  been  three  months.  This  was  one 
reason  I  thought  you  and  your  sister  might 
visit  me.  I  continually  hope  that  each  out- 
break will  be  the  last.  Then  you  have 
not  seen  and  heard  the  worst.  At  first 
I  was  so  exercised  in  mind  and  heart 
that  I  thought  I  could  never  stand  it. 
But  I  reasoned  it  out  that  if  these  things  were 
of  the  Devil,  the  God  whom  I  love  and  serve, 
would  deliver  me.  Or  if  they  were  from  de- 
signing, wicked  men,  that  I  had  equally  com- 
fortable promises  in  the  Bible  that  I  should 
be  protected.  In  addition  I  felt  I  owed  it  to 
Society,  to  Morality,  and  to  Truth,  itself,  not 
to  allow  evil  characters  to  triumph  in  their 
plots  and  labors  through  womanly  timidity 
or  superstitious  fears. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  designing  men," 
asked  my  mother,  laying  her  hand  lovingly 
on  her  aunt's  shoulder. 

"Well,  you  know  this  is  a  very  handsome 
dwelling  and  desirable  estate;  and  if  men 
who  have  tried  repeatedly  to  purchase  it 


112         STORIES   AROUND   A   CAMP   FIRE. 

from  me,  and  in  vain,  should  endeavor  in 
some  unknown  way  to  make  the  house  ap- 
pear as  if  it  was  haunted,  and  so  drive  me  to 
terms,  I  call  that  designing,  as  well  as  wick- 
ed. 

"My  mother  left  next  day.  She  could  not 
have  remained,  she  said,  another  night  in  a 
building  with  such  frightful,  unnerving 
things  taking  place  both  day  and  night. 

"Her  Aunt  remained  alone  as  usual;  and 
several  years  later  passed  peacefully  away  to 
Heaven. 

"Dreaded  as  the  house  was  in  her  lifetime, 
after  her  death,  when  it  was  closed  up,  it  be- 
came even  gloomier  looking,  and  was  avoid- 
ed and  shunned  by  every  one. 

"It  seemed  to  those  who  drove  up  the 
avenue  to  obtain  directions  about  the  road 
from  the  servants  in  the  back  yard;  or  to 
hunters  approaching  it  through  the  woods; 
that  it  stood  for  some  dreadful  mystery; 
that  "The  Thing"  which  had  haunted,  sad- 
dened and  blighted  the  place  was  looking 
down  from  the  upper  windows,  or  peering 
through  the  transoms  of  the  hall  door  at 
them.  So  that  they  were  glad  to  get  away 


STORIES   AROUND   A   CAMP   FIRE.         113 

from  the  solemn,  silent  mansion  and  move 
on  public  highways  and  look  on  brighter 
dwellings  that  had  no  such  appearance  and 
history. 

"Meantime' -while  the  estate  was  rented 
out  and  cultivated,  and  a  few  servants  lived 
in  cabins  in  the  back  yard,  the  great  house 
itself  was  closed  and  left  solitary,  with  the 
old  forest  trees  sighing  around  it,  and  wring- 
ing their  lofty  branches  over  its  roof  as  if 
in  grief  and  trouble  over  something  of  a 
dark,  hopeless  nature  that  had  taken  place, 
or  was  going  on  still  within  its  mysterious 
walls. 

"One  night  it  burned  down.  No  one  ever 
knew  how  it  happened,  unless  it  was  brought 
about  by  sparks  from  a,  forest  fire. 

"To  this  day  the  melancholy  ruins  can  be 
seen  with  blackened  pine,  oak  and  sycamore 
trees  and  fire  scroched  shrubbery  standing 
about  it ;  while  the  chimneys,  tall  and  weather 
stained,  look  like  monuments  towering  over 
the  grave  of  an  ended  household,  a  blighted 
home,  whose  members  are  scattered,  dead, 
and  departed  forever." 


1U         STORIES   AROUND   A   CAMP    FIRE. 

Ludlow's  story  left  the  whole  party,  ser- 
vants not  excepted,  in  a  mental  state  of 
gloom  not  unmixed  with  a  feeling  of  fear. 

As  the  dark  eyed  speaker  had  proceeded, 
chilly  sensations  ran  through  the  body  and 
tingled  to  the  very  finger  tips  of  the  bravest 
man  of  the  group. 

It  was  LeGrange's  time  to  give  a  narrative, 
but  no  one  asked  him  to  begin.  The  nerves 
of  all  were  on  a  kind  of  edge;  and  there  was 
a  vague  uneasiness  and  apprehension  felt, 
which  the  half-dying  fire,  the  distant  hooting 
of  owls,  the  rustling  palmettos  stopping  at 
times  as  if  to  listen  to  the  weird  story,  and 
the  occasional  sigh  of  the  woods  around 
them  did  not  tend  to  lessen,  but  deepened 
and  intensified  instead. 

Curtis,  the  Lawyer,  was  about  to  propose 
going  to  bed  and  letting  LeGrange  off  until 
the  next  evening;  when  suddenly  Dave  cried 
out  in  a  loud  voice  and  with  a  tone  of  un- 
speakable horror: 

"My  Lawd-a-Mighty !  Jes  look  yonder!" 

In  the  next  instant  Daniel  screamed: 

"Oh  Gawd-Hev-Mussy !"  and  fell  grovel- 
ing on  the  ground  on  his  face,  while  Dave, 


STORIES   AROUND   A   CAMP   FIRE.  115 

with  another  cry  of  dismay  and  terror  plung- 
ed head-foremost  in  the  palmetto  shanty  and 
burrowed  out  of  sight  under  blankets,  bun- 
dles of  fodder,  and  baggage  of  every  descrip- 
tion. 

All  the  four  white  men  on  hearing  the 
cries  and  beholding  the  action  of  the  ne- 
groes, sprang  to  their  feet  and  with  vary- 
ing expressions  of  astonishment  and  horror, 
looked  in  the  direction  where  Dave  had 
pointed  his  finger  before  he  leaped  out  of 
sight.  And  there,  hardly  fifty  feet  distant 
in  the  starlight,  in  the  road-like  vista  we  have 
described  and  just  this  side  of  the  place 
where  it  bent  away  and  was  lost  in  the  dark- 
ness of  the  swamp,  stood  a  skeleton  of  a  man 
of  gigantic  height,  with  its  ribs  and  teeth 
glittering  in  the  firelight,  while  in  the  sock- 
ets of  the  white,  bony  head  two  shining  eyes 
burned  and  glowered  upon  them. 

Before  the  amazed  and  horrified  men 
could  do  a  thing,  some  kind  of  large  body 
dashed  behind  them*  went  through  and  over 
the  fire,  scattering  its  embers  and  plunging 
the  camp  and  road  into  a  darkness  all  the 
greater  because  of  the  sudden  transition 


116         STORIES   AROUND   A   CAMP   FIRE. 

from  light  to  blackness.  At  the  same  mo- 
ment there  proceeded  from  the  Skeleton 
Figure  a  blood  curdling  scream  and  maniacal 
laugh. 

All  credit  to  the  nerve  and  courage  of  the 
white  men,  the  entire  four  grasping  up  guns 
and  pistols  plunged  into  the  narrow  glade 
where  they  had  beheld  the  frightful  spec- 
tacle; LeGrange  and  Ludlow  firing  repeat- 
edly as  they  ran  forward. 

But  on  arriving  at  the  vista  bend,  nothing 
was  to  be  seen.  Ludlow  returned  hastily  to 
the  camp  fire,  seized  a  brand,  and  waving  it 
until  the  flame  was  restored,  rushed  back 
to  the  three  and  holding  the  torch  aloft, 
peered  into  the  remaining  length  of  the 
strange  roadway,  and  listened  breathlessly 
for  the  faintest  sound. 

But  nothing  rewarded  the  view,  and  noth- 
ing was  heard  but  the  dying  echoes  of  their 
own  firearms  in  the  forest,  and  a  general 
hooting  of  owls  produced  by  the  discharge 
of  the  guns. 

By  and  by  everything  became  perfectly 
still.  The  palmetto  fans  quieted  as  if  fallen 
into  a  deep'  silent  expectancy.  Then  a  night 


STORIES   AROUND   A   CAMP   FIRE.         117 

bird  gave  a  call,  and  the  woods  commenced 
sighing  again. 

The  men,  penetrating  some  hundred 
yards  or  more  in  the  surrounding  trees,  and 
realizing  the  folly  of  trying  to  explore  a 
canebrake  where  one  being  could  easily  hide 
from  a  thousand  seeking  him,  gave  up  the 
quest,  returned  to  the  camp  and  with  the 
assistance  of  the  terrified  negroes,  heaped 
fresh  logs  and  pine  knots  on  the  fire,  and 
spent  several  additional  hours  of  the  night 
smoking,  musing  and  talking  to  each  other 
in  undertones. 

The  occurrence  had  been  so  real  they 
could  not  doubt  it.  And  the  ghastly  figure' 
having  been  beheld  by  all  six,  they  could 
not  deny  the  hor^'1 '  Appearance  in  the 
road. 

Wtr  _    nnaiiy  retired,   one  of  their 

IT'  .,as  left  on  guard,  but  it  is  question- 

.  whether  any  of  the  remaining  five  clos- 
ed their  eyes  in  sleep  on  that  memorable 
night. 

At  daybreak  the  hunters  arose,  heavy  and 
unrefreshed,  and  after  a  hasty  morning 
meal,  packed  up  and  rode  away  homewards ; 


118         STORIES    AROUND   A    CAMP   FIRE. 

leaving  the  embers  of  their   camp  fire  to 
smolder  and  consume  on  the  lonely,  densely 

shaded  banks  of  Tipton  Bayou. 

*  *  *  * 

The  hunting  party  had  disappeared 
through  the  heavy  timber  not  more  than 
ten  minutes,  when  slowly  and  cautiously 
two  men  in  striped  clothes  and  bearing  a 
skeleton  between  them,  slipped  out  from  the 
tangled  cane  brake,  and  made  for  the  hunt- 
ers campfire. 

Placing  the  skeleton  in  a  sitting  position 
against  a  tree,  the  escaped  convicts  began 
to  look  around  for  food,  which  they  surmis- 
ed the  hunters  in  their  carelessness  and  has- 
ty departure  might  have  left.  Their  search 
was  far  from  being  a  failure. 

"Why  here  is  almost  a  whole  quarter  of 
venison !"  exclaimed  one. 

"And  here"  cried  the  other,  is  a  bag  of 
biscuit  and  a  pot  half-full  of  coffee.  Sure- 
ly those  men  must  have  been  badly  scared 
to  have  left  so  much  good  grub  behind." 

"That  was  certainly  a  lucky  find  of  yours 
in  the  cane-brake  yesterday,  that  skeleton 
of  some  lost  hunter  or  trapper,  and  the  use 


STORIES   AROUND   A    CAMP    FIRE.         119 

you  put  it,  to  scare  off  that  crowd  from  our 
wigwam  in  the  cypress  brake.  That  scream 
and  maniacal  laugh  of  yours  couldn't  be 
beat  in  a  lunatic  asylum.  It  made  even  my 
blood  run  cold." 

"Yes,"  replied  the  second  convict,  "By 
putting  some  fox  fire  or  phosphorous  wood 
in  the  sockets  of  the  eyes,  and  holding  the 
skeleton  up  high  in  my  arms  towards  the  fire 
it  looked  like  a  giant  and  maybe  like  the 
Devil  himself  to  that  astonished  gang.  Then 
the  yell  and  laugh  helped.  But  I  had  no  idea 
that  four  of  that  bunch  were  white  men.  If  I 
had  I  never  would  have  risked  the  thing;  for 
white  men  are  not  so  easily  scared  and  they 
have  a  way  of  shooting,  and  that  well, 
scared  or  no  scared.  I  thought  it  was  a 
pack  of  darkeys,  and  that  they  would  leave 
here  in  a  hurry  and  never  stop  running 
until  they  got  back  to  the  plantations  where 
they  belonged.  And  I  felt  sure  that  their 
reports  of  what  they  saw  would  make  this 
part  of  the  woods  perfectly  safe  for  us  until 
time  to  give  ourselves  up  and  get  our  pardon 
by  enlisting  in  the  army." 

The  first  man  had  been  busily  frying  some 


120         STORIES   AROUND   A   CAMP   FIRE. 

venison  steaks  on  the  coals  of  fire,  and  now, 
having  finished,  and  dividing  the  bread  and 
meat  between  himself  and  comrade,  replied: 

"You  may  well  say  that  those  white  men 
shoot  well.  The  only  thing  that  saved  us 
was  one  of  their  horses  taking  fright  at  the 
skeleton,  breaking  his  halter  and  knocking 
the  fire  out  as  he  dashed  away.  Quick  as 
we  were  to  slip  in  the  cane-brake  some  of 
their  rifle  balls  whistled  mighty  close  to  us; 
and  but  for  the  echo  of  their  guns,  the  hoot- 
ing of  the  owls,  and  their  own  loud  talking 
at  first,  they  must  have  heard  us  as  we 
crawled  away  through  the  cane  with  that 
skeleton  yonder,  which  you  had  tied  up  so 
well  with  leather  strings  and  thongs  to  hold 
it  together  and  keep  it  from  rattling." 

"That's  so,"  rejoined  the  second  man, 
"and  I  don't  know  that  we  can  afford  to  stay 
here  another  week,  as  we  had  expected. 
Those  white  men  are  going  to  think  the  mat- 
ter over  and  are  certain  to  come  back  and 
ferret  it  out.  And  it  will  never  do  for  them 
to  run  us  down  with  bloodhounds  and  catcv 
us  before  we  take  advantage  of  the  pro'* 
ation  of  the  governor  and  volun*  ^ar- 


STORIES   AROUND   A    CAMP   FIRE.         121 

render  ourselves  to  the  authorities  and  get 
mustered  into  service.  One  of  these  days 
when  I  have  redeemed  myself  in  this  Civil 
War  that  has  broken  out,  I  shall  find  some 
of  these  parties,  make  a  clean  breast  of  it,  and 
tell  them  of  the  Skeleton  Scare  we  put  upon 
them." 

The  first  convict  agreed  to  the  suggestion 
of  an  immediate  departure  from  the  swamp 
to  the  hills.  And  so  after  bundling  up  the 
remnants  of  the  food,  they  vanished  from 
view  in  the  dark  forest  on  their  way  first  to 
their  shanty  in  the  heart  of  a  cypress  brake, 
and  then  ultimately  to  safer  regions  in  the 
northern  part  of  the  county. 

Meanwhile  the  skeleton  was  left  leaning 
against  the  trunk  of  a  neighboring  tree, 
with  the  phosphorescent  gleam  still  in  its 
eyes,  and  sat  apparently  gazing  into  the  dull 
yellow  stream  that  flowed  sluggishly  past,  as 
if  waiting  for  some  lone  hunter  or  lost  trav- 
eler to  come  along  and  discover,  with  a 
shock,  the  mystery  of  the  Ghost  of  Tipton 
Bayou. 


A  CONVERSATION 
IN  HADES 


133 


A  CONVERSATION 
IN  HADES 


Opening  Scene. 

(A  human  spirit  flying  as  if  pursued, 
knocks  at  the  black  portals  of  Hell.  The 
doorkeeper  emitting  brimstone  fumes  from 
his  mouth  appears,  and  the  conversation  or 
dialogue  begins) : 

(Spirit)  "Let  me  in". 

(Doorkeeper)  "What  brings  you  here?" 

(S)    "Desperation." 

(D)    "But  what  was  your  sin?" 

(S)  "Nothing  special — I  had  a  scolding 
wife." 

(D)    "You  cannot  come  in  here." 

(S)    "Why  not  pray?" 

(D)  "We  have  nothing  worse  to  offer  you 
than  that  you  have  had  already.  Besides" — 

125 


126  A  CONVERSATION   IN   HADES. 

(S)    "Besides  what  ?" 

(D)  "The  Devils  have  held  a  conclave, 
and  agreed  that  it  would  be  wrong  and  un- 
just to  give  a  man  another  Hell,  when  he 
has  already  had  one  on  earth." 

(S)  "But  your  Hell  will  not  be  as  bad  as 
the  one  I  left,  and  so  it  will  be  a  relief." 

(D)  "That  may  be  true,  but  Devils  have 
some  sense  of  justice  and  some  pity;  and 
they  say  they  could  take  no  pleasure  in  tor- 
menting a  man  who  lived  ten,  twenty  or  thir- 
ty years  with  a  scolding  wife.  They  declare 
they  would  feel  so  mean  and  despiseable  that 
they  could  never  lift  up  their  heads  again." 
\  (S)  "But  I  am  used  to  being  in  Hell." 

(D)  "Yes  but  we  could  not  make  things 
as  lively  for  you  as  you  had  them  once  in 
your  own  house.  You  would  soon  feel  the 
difference,  and  would  be  betrayed  into  mak- 
ing reflections  on  us.  We  once  had  a  man 
here  who  did  that  very  thing,  and  in  the 
midst  of  our  scolloped  and  gilt-edged  tor- 
ment, he  would  smile  and  say: 

"You  just  wait  'till  Sairy  Ann  gets  here, 
and  she  will  show  you  what  real  Simon  Pure 
Torment  is! 


A  CONVERSATION   IN   HADES.  127 

"Well,  sir,  that  man  got  us  all  so  nervous, 
and  me  so  terrified  that  for  months  I  was 
afraid  to  go  to  the  Entrance  Gate  when  a 
new  woman  appeared.  An  what  is  more,  if 
at  the  time  of  one  of  these  female  arrivals, 
some  one  had  yelled~"Sairy  Ann !"— I  verily 
believe  that  the  whole  crowd  of  us  would 
have  taken  to  our  heels,  and  Beelzebub  him- 
self would  have  come  near  breaking  his  neck 
in  getting  off  his  throne  and  running. 

"No  sir,  your  arguments  won't  do:  There 
is  no  place  here  for  you." 

(S)    "But  what  must  I  do?" 

(D)  "Go  to  Heaven !  They  will  let  you  in 
there  as  soon  as  you  tell  your  story." 

(S)  "But  I  have  lost  my  religion  through 
my  wife,  and  am  a  backslider." 

(D)  It  doesn't  matter.  You  will  do  no 
harm  up  there.  Nobody  will  be  afraid  of 
you.  No  man  who  has  been  henpecked  and 
scolded  and  treated  as  you  have  been,  will 
ever  be  dangerous  in  Heaven.  Get  off  with 
you  quick;  your  very  appearance  makes  me 
feel  like  weeping,  and  if  I  were  seen  with 
tears  in  my  eyes  I  would  lose  my  position 
here  forever.  Step  off  lively  now !  You  are 


128  A  CONVERSATION  IN  HADES. 

blocking  the  way!    Make  room  there  for  an- 
other man.    Goodbye.    I  know  they  will  give 
you  a  lofty  seat  in  the  Glory  world.    Then 
remember  this  for  your  comfort;  there  is  no 
marrying  or  giving  in  marriage  in  Heaven." 
(S)    "That's  so.    I  had  forgotten  that.    I 
thank  you  sweet  Devil  for  that  last  thought." 
(D)    "You  are  welcome.    Farewell." 
(S)     "Pardon  me  before  I  go;  but  grant 
me  another  word.     I  see  that  last  man  has 
gone  in  and  you  have  a  few  minutes  to  spare 
me.    Tell  me,  do  all  men  go  to  Heaven  who 
have  had  scolding  wives." 

(D)  "Not  all.  For  some  of  these  women 
repent  and  go  to  Heaven,  and  when  their 
husbands  hear  that,  they  prefer  coming  to 
Hell;  and  therefore  many  got  in  here  be- 
cause of  this  before  we  made  the  new  law  I 
told  you  about.  Then  other  men  when  in- 
formed of  the  separation  of  the  sexes  in  Hell 
do  not  mind  coming  here  to  live  with  us." 

(S)  "And  are  the  sexes  kept  apart  in  the 
Infernal  World?  You  astonish  me! 

(D)  "Yes,  the  men  are  kept  on  what  is 
called  the  Mainland,  and  the  women  are  di- 


A  CONVERSATION   IN   HADES.  129 

vided  up  in  what  is  known  as  the  Continent 
and  the  Five  Islands." 

(S)    "You  interest  me.     Please  explain." 

(D)  "I  will  do  so  cheerfully,  though  I 
must  be  brief,  as  we  are  looking  for  a  large 
arrival  today,  through  the  wreck  of  a  Sun- 
day Excursion  Train,  and  the  breaking  in  of 
the  floor  of  a  Political  Convention  Hall.  So 
speak  quickly,  what  would  you  like  to  know 
of  me." 

(S)  "I  wish  to  be  informed  as  to  the  mode 
of  punishment  dealt  out  to  women  in  Hell, 
and  why  the  sexes  are  separated?" 

(D)  "I  will  tell  you,  but  for  the  reasons 
just  given  will  have  to  be  brief." 

(S)    "I  appreciate  your— 

(D)  ''Step  inside  the  door  here,  and  hold 
your  palaver.  Stand  now  by  the  bank  of  this 
vast  grey  sea,  which  stretches  away  yonder 
to  that  black  lightning-riven  horizon.  You 
are  standing  on  the  Mainland,  where  the 
men  are  kept.  Now  look  away  to  the  left, 
and  do  you  see  a  rocky  island  the  first  of  a 
group  of  four? 

(S)    "Yes." 

(D)    "Well  that  is  filled  with  women  who 


130  A  CONVERSATION  IN  HADES. 

railed  against  men  and  marriage,  calling  the 
first  brutes,  and  the  second  a  degrading  cus- 
tom and  institution. 

"The  island  next  to  it  on  the  left  is  peo- 
pled with  females  who  advocated  woman's 
rights. 

"The  one  still  farther  to  the  left  is  crowd- 
ed with  old  maids  who  never  had  an  offer  of 
marriage.  The  fourth  and  most  distant  of 
the  cluster  has  a  population  of  widows  who 
wanted  to  marry  the  second  time,  but  died 
without  the  realization  of  their  hope.  Do 
you  see  them  all  ? 

(S)    "Yes  perfectly." 

(D)  "Now  look  at  that  vast  bleak  coast 
on  the  right,  against  which  the  waves  are 
pounding,  and  sending  up  their  bitter  spray. 
That  body  of  land  though  really  an  island, 
yet  because  of  its  Australian  size,  has  been 
called  the  Continent.  It  is  overflowing  with 
women  who  were  scolding  wives.  Do  you 
see  that  also?" 

(S)  "Certainly.  It  is  undoubtedly  large 
enough  to  be  seen." 

(D)  "True,  it  is  large,  but  it  is  densely 
populated.  Now  look  at  a  point  midway  be- 


A  CONVERSATION   IN   HADES.  131 

tween  the  Continent  and  the  group  of  four 
islands  and  you  will  see  what  is  called  Fifth, 
or  Beauty  Island.  Of  this  I  will  speak  again 
in  a  minute,  telling  you  who  live  there.  I 
suppose  you  see  it." 

(S)  "Yes,  and  it  is  the  loveliest  in  shape 
and  appearance,  of  the  five." 

(D)  "That  is  true.  Now  take  this  field 
glass  and  look  carefully  over  the  Continent 
and  you  will  notice  that  the  shores  are  lined 
with  women,  and  they  are  all  looking  this 
way  at  the  men  on  the  Mainland." 

(S)  "Yes-Yes- Yes-I  see  them  doing  so!! 
But  what  is  their  torment?" 

(D)  "You  earthborn  dolt  and  idiot!  Don't 
you  see  that  the  women's  suffering  on  the 
Continent  arises  from  this  everlasting  sep- 
eration  from  their  victims  of  former  days, 
the  men.  This  fact  drives  them  to  frenzy." 

"Once  a  million  or  more  of  them  crowded 
out  on  that  prominent  Headland  over  there, 
and  raised  a  screech  of  defiance  at  the  men 
over  here;  but  they  were  so  far  off  that  it 
sounded  like  the  distant  cry  of  a  sea  gull. 
All  the  men  laughed  and  could  have  hugged 
the  Devil." 


132  A  CONVERSATION   IN   HADES. 

"When  the  women  through  their  glasses 
saw  the  men's  amusement  and  evident  joy, 
they  screeched  again  in  fury  and  got  to  right- 
ing among  themselves." 

(S)  "But  what  about  the  dwellers  on  the 
four  islands:  what  is  their  suffering?" 

(D)  "Well  sir,  you  are  about  the  biggest 
blockhead  I  ever  met,  and  I  have  seen  a  num- 
ber of  no  ordinary  fools.  Did  your  wife's 
treatment  make  you  stupid  or  were  you  born 
so?" 

(S)    "I  was  considered  gifted  until  I  got 


mar — " 


(D)  "Oh  well,  don't  get  to  sniffling  and 
snuffling  around  here;  take  this  glass  and 
look  carefully  at  the  Continent.  Your  wife 
may  be  over  there  now.  Look  and  see  if  she 
has  arrived." 

(S)    "Not  for  the  World!" 

(D)  "Well !  well !  well !  She  did  have  you 
scared,  I  must  say." 

(S)  "Scared  isn't  the  word.  She,  that  is 
Mandy  got  me  so  unstrung  in  life,  that  a 
crash  of  thunder  never  gave  me  as  great  a 
nervous  shock,  as  did  her  thin  sharp  voiqe 
speaking  suddenly  to  me." 


A  CONVERSATION   IN   HADES.  133 

(D)  "Poor  fellow,  how  you  tremble.  Here 
sniff  some  of  this  brimstone  to  revive  you. 
She  shall  not  get  you." 

(S)  "But  you  said  she  might  be  over  there 
on  the  Continent;  and  if  so,  she  must  have 
passed  close  by  us.  Do  you  reckon  she  did?" 

(D)  "I  don't  know.  I  was  talking  to  you, 
and  turned  the  gate  over  to  the  Second  Keep- 
er. She  may  have  gone  through  then.  Take 
some  more  of  these  fumes  in  your  nostrils. 
You  look  like  you  are  going  to  faint." 

(S)  "Faint!  Did  you  know  that  I  killed 
myself  on  earth  to  get  away  from  her?" 

(D)  "I  am  not  surprised,  for  many  do  so. 
But  you  men  do  amuse  us  Devils  a  lot." 

(S)    "How?" 

(D)  "What  makes  you  call  the  women 
Heaven's  best  gift  to  man;  the  gentler  sex; 
man's  guiding  star;  the  white  handed  angel 
of  mercy,  and  all  that  stuff.  One  of  your 
poets  wrote  that  Eden  was  a  wild,  until  the 
first  woman  smiled.  And  yet,  you  know  she 
was  the  first  sinner  as  she  was  the  first 
woman,  and  got  all  of  you  in  a  world  of  trou- 
ble. Then  you  yourself  made  a  College 
Commencement  address  once  to  a  hall  filled 


134  A  CONVERSATION   IN   HADES. 

with  women,  and  you  plastered  them  so 
thick  with  fulsome  eulogiums  that  you  made 
us  all  sick  here  in  Hell.  What  makes  you 
men  such  hypocrites." 

(S)  "It  seems  to  me  that  you  are  the  one 
who  lacks  sense  now.  The  whole  thing  is 
done  to  keep  peace." 

(D)  "Well,  what  makes  you  marry  them?" 

(S)    "Most  of  us  were  badly  fooled." 

(D)  "Did  the  woman  you  call  "Mandy" 
fool  you?" 

(S)  "Please  don't  mention  her  any  more. 
I  just  can't  stand  it.  I  only  know  I  must 
have  had  no  sense  when  I  married  her,  and 
I  certainly  have  had  none  since." 

(D)  "What  kind  do  you  mean;  sense  in 
the  head,  or  cents  in  the  pocket." 

(S)    "I  mean  both." 

(D)  "Well  you  men  may  say  what  you 
will  about  us  Devils,  but  in  one  thing  we 
have  shown  our  wisdom  over  you,  and  that 
is  we  have  always  steered  clear  of  the  ma- 
trimonial rock." 

(S)  "That's  just  the  reason  that  many  of 
us  would  rather  come  to  Hell  and  be  with 


A  CONVERSATION  IN  HADES.  135 

you  Devils,  than  live  on  earth  in  a  smaller 
but  more  intolerable  place  of  torment." 
(D)    "But  what  if  Mandy  should  insist—" 
(S)    "Please  do  not  mention  Amanda  any- 
more; but  tell  me  about  the  torment  of  the 
Four  Islands." 

(D)  "If  you  take  a  peep  through  the  tele- 
scope at  Widow's  Island,  Old  Maids'  Island, 
and  no  Marriage  Island,  you  will  observe 
that  the  rocks  and  hills  are  covered  with  fe- 
males, who  are  all  the  time  looking  through 
glasses  at  this  place,  the  Mainland.  Many 
you  notice  are  busy  wiping  away  the  tears 
from  their  eyes." 

(S)  "I  see  them !  Oh  how  pitiful !" 
(D)  "If  you  look  again,  you  will  see  that 
the  women  in  no  Marriage  Island  weep  as 
much  as  they  do  in  the  Old  Maids'  and  Wi- 
dow's Island.  In  other  words,  all  their  talk 
against  matrimony  was  mere  rot.  Marriage 
in  your  race  or  order  of  beings,  was  not  only 
a  law  written  on  stone,  but  founded  in  your 
mental  and  physical  constitution,  and  yet 
they  pretended  it  was  wrong,  unnatural  and 
dreadful.  And  now  they  are  condemned  to 
live  with,  and  by  themselves,  and  feel  etet- 
nally  the  lack  of  an  intellectual  and  physical 


136  A  CONVERSATION   IN   HADES 

complementing  and  supplementing  part, 
that  is  resident  only  in  the  opposite  sex." 

(S)  "But  what  about  those  on  Woman's 
Rights  Island?" 

(D)  "Their  suffering  arises  from  the  fact 
that  they  have  no  men  to  listen  to  their  pub- 
lic harangues  and  wholesale  abuse  of  the 
masculine  gender.  So  they  are  compelled 
to  hear  one  another.  Turned  loose  upon 
themselves  with  no  men  anywhere  around  to 
arraign  and  accuse  as  the  author  of  their 
troubles  and  downtrodden  condition,  their 
lectures  seem  to  lack  salt,  flavor,  inspiration, 
or  something;  and  so  it  is  hard  to  tell  who 
are  the  greatest  martyrs  over  there,  the 
speakers  who  are  appointed  to  deliver  the  old 
time  tongue  lashing;  or  the  audience  doomed 
to  listen  to  the  wearying,  sickening,  endless 
repetition  of  platitudes,  or  forced  to  applaud 
mere  rounded  periods  of  windy  nothings 
where  freshness  in  unknown,  and  only  venom 
and  heaviness  and  tediousness  remain." 

(S)  "But  what  about  the  torment  of  the 
men  on  the  Mainland?" 

(D)  "I  will  show  you.  Look  here  again 
at  the  island  which  you  thought  to  be  the 


A  CONVERSATION   IN   HADES.  137 

most  beautiful,  and  which  is  called  Beauty 
Island." 

(S)     "Yes,  I  remember." 

(D)  "Well,  there  dwell  the  women  who 
died  unsaved,  but  who  loved  the  men,  and 
whom  the  men  loved.  The  torment  of  your 
sex  is  in  peering  through  telescopes  and  see- 
ing from  afar  these  fair  and  beautiful  women, 
who  cared  for  them  and  who  in  turn  com- 
manded their  affection  and  ardent  devotion." 

"If  you  will  look  up  and  down  the  shore 
you  will  see  millions  of  men  perched  on  crags 
and  standing  on  promontories,  gazing 
through  their  glasses  and  waving  their  hands 
toward  that  island  which  is  the  least  distant 
of  the  five." 

(S)    "Well,  that  is  truly  dreadful." 

(D)  "So  said  Mark  Antony,  Henry  the 
Eighth,  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  Beau  Brum- 
mel,  Byron,  and  a  number  of  others  when 
they  arrived.  But  it  is  the  case  just  the 


same." 


(S)  "But  is  there  no  communication 
whatever  between  Beauty  Island  and  the 
Mainland". 

(D)    "None  at  all,  save  by  telescope." 


138  A  CONVERSATION   IN   HADES. 

(S)  "Is  the*  no  amelioration  of  anguish 
in  some  way?" 

(D)  "O  yes;  the  men  know  that  if  the 
Beauty  Island  citizens  cannot  come  to  them, 
neither  can  the  dwellers  on  the  Continent  or 
those  on  the  Four  Islands." 

(S)  "Do  the  men  suffer  as  much  as  the 
women  ?" 

(D)  "In  some  respects  there  is  a  differ- 
ence; for  when  the  women  on  the  Continent 
and  Four  Islands  looking  through  their  field 
glasses,  see  the  men  all  gazing  through  their 
telescopes  at  the  Females  on  Beauty  Island, 
they  scream,  shriek,  pull  each  other's  hair, 
scratch  and  bite  one  another,  and  fall  down 
in  paroxysms." 

(S)  "Well,  all  this  is  trubiwonderful.  I 
had  no  idea  that  the  Devil  had  such  a  grim 
spirit  ot  justice  in  him. 

(D)  "Yes,  he  is  supposed  to  have  suffered 
himself  away  back  yonder  somewhere.  And 
he  always  insists  that  Eve  lied  about  the 
Falljn  the  Garden." 

(S)  "So  poor  lost  men  have  a  streak  of 
pleasure  given  them  by  being  allowed  to  gaze 


A  CONVERSATION  IN   HADES.  139 

upon  Beauty  Island  with  its  population  of 
lovely  and  loving  females." 

(D)  "Yes,  but  they  have  a  far  greater  joy 
than  that." 

(S)    "What  is  it?" 

(D)  "The  knowledge  that  the  women  on 
the  Continent  can  never  cross  over  and  get 
them  again." 

(S)  "Yes,  that  is  blessed  indeed !" 
(D)  "Certainly  it  is.  But  one  day,  Ha! 
Ha!  Ha!  Ha!  Ha!  I  can  never  think  of  it 
without  laughing.  Wait  a  minute  until  I 
blow  this  sulphur  out  of  my  nose.  One  day 
as  I  was  saying,  a  man  of  your  sort  was  up 
on  that  high  rock  on  the  Main  Coast  Line, 
sweeping  the  sea  with  his  glass,  when  he 
thought  he  saw  the  women  on  the  Continent 
embarking  in  boats  and  rowing  this  way. 
He  yelled  to  the  crowd  below  what  was  hap- 
pening, and  you  never  saw  the  like  in  all 
your  life  as  to  excitement  and  confusion. 
There  was  a  panic  and  stampede  among  the 
men  that  astonished  the  oldest  Devils  in 
Hell.  The  crowd  rushed  over  Gloomy  Hill 
yonder,  crossed  Despair  Valley,  swam  Red 


140  A  CONVERSATION   IN   HADES. 

Hot  Lake,  and  hid  themselves  in  the  Mid- 
night Mountains." 

"How^Apollyon  did  laugh  at  the  sight !  He 
sent  a  Regiment  of  Imps  on  their  trail  to  tell 
them  it  was  all  a  mistake;  that  he  had  fixed 
seas  and  boundary  lines  so  that  Woman 
Righters  and  Scolding  Wives  could  never 
get  at  the  men  again. 

"When  they  heard  this,  they  crept  back 
looking  cheap  and  foolish  but  still  very  much 
frightened." 

(S)  "I  had  no  idea  that  the  Devil  had  any 
idea  of  fun  or  sense  of  humor." 

(D)  "You  don't  know  him.  He  has  a 
keen  appreciation  of  the  ridiculous.  You 
ought  to  hear  him  take  off  the  preachers 
when  they  have  proved  in  their  sermons  that 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  personal  Devil  in 
the  universe.  You  would  die  laughing. 

"He  said  that  once  he  sat  on  the  altar  rail, 
listening  to  a  leading  preacher  disproving 
his  existence.  That  it  made  him  feel  quite 
queer  to  hear  philosophy,  science  and  logic 
all  brought  in  to  oust  him  not  only  from  the 
world,  but  out  of  being  itself.  Suddenly  he 
sprang  up  and  said  to  himself  I  will  make 


A  CONVERSATION   IN   HADES.  141 

that  man  take  all  this  back  and  admit  my 
personality  and  presence  in  fifteen  minutes. 
So  out  he  skipped,  changed  the  course  of  the 
wind,  and  had  the  congregation  coughing 
and  sneezing  all  over  the  house.  He  next 
tickled  the  leg  nerves  of  the  elderly  and  made 
them  fidgetty,  got  the  young  people  into  ir- 
reverent snickering,  caused  drowsiness  to 
come  upon  some  prominent  pew  holders,  and 
wound  up  his  attack  by  clogging  the  brain 
and  stiffening  the  tongue  of  the  preacher. 
In  another  minute  the  minister  who  had  been 
contending  for  minutes  against  all  these  dis- 
turbing conditions,  suddenly  cried  out  in  a 
tone  of  vexation  and  even  anger:  'It  seems 
to  me  that  the  Devil  is  certainly  here  today.' 

"How  we  all  laughed  when  Lucifer  told 
us  this  story  one  day  in  a  great  gathering. 

"Oh  yes!  Satan  has  a  fine  sense  of  humor, 
and  when  he  isn't  mad,  or  has  worked  off 
some  of  his  bad  feelings  by  sticking  red  hot 
harpoons  into  men,  he  is  very  genial,  and 
greatly  enjoys  a  joke. 

"I  remember  that  after  one  of  the  scared 
men  saw  him  laughing  at  the  stampede  I 
have  described,  and  heard  him  explain  how 


142  A  CONVERSATION   IN   HADES. 

impossible  it  was  for  the  women  on  the  Con- 
tinent ever  to  get  at  the  men  on  the  Main- 
land, that  the  man  in  a  fit  of  gratitude  clap- 
ped Apollyon  on  the  back  and  called  him  a 
'Hunk-a-Dory!' 

"My!  how  Lucifer  laughed  at  that,  and 
said  in  reply:  'Just  now  you  were  slapping 
the  ground  with  your  feet  because  you 
thought  you  saw  a  Dory,  and  now  you  are 
slapping  my  back  with  your  hands  because 
you  think  I  am  a  Dory.' 

"Ah  yes,  The  Old  Boy  enjoys  a  joke  now 
and  then." 

(S)  "Were  the  scolding  women  really 
coming  across  the  Sea  after  the  men?" 

(D)  "Yes;  they  had  picked  up  a  lot  of 
elastic  weeds,  wove  them  into  skeleton 
frames,  daubed  them  with  clay,  and  stretch- 
ed their  garments  about  them,  making  a  frail 
kind  of  boat;  and  put  to  sea.  But  Lucifer, 
you  know,<isjhe  Prince  of  the  Power  ofj:he 
V  Air,  and  he  raised  a  storm,  which  tumbled 
their  cockle  shells  over,  knocked  them  to 
pieces  on  the  rocks,  and  rolled  the  women, 
xc,r  screaming  and  wailing,  back  on  the  tide  to 
the  shore." 


A  CONVERSATION   IN   HADES.  143 

(S)  "I  have  but  one  more  question  to  ask 
you!" 

(D)    "Say  on." 

(S)  "If  when  I  go  from  here  to  Heaven, 
and  find  that  Amanda  has  repented  and  is 
up  there,  can  I  have  a  bunk  here  in  hell?" 

(D)  "I  have  already  told  you  that  its 
against  our  rules  to  do  such  a  thing.  But  as 
we  have  made  some  exceptions,  in  a  number 
of  peculiar  sad  suicides,  we  will  try  to  ex- 
tend this  courtesy  to  you." 

(S)  "You  not  only  relieve  me  by  saying 
this,  but  you  delight  me.  But  let  us  under- 
stand each  other.  That  body  of  scalding 
water  between  the  Mainland  and  the  Conti- 
nent, is  not  wide  enough  to  suit  my  notions, 
if  Amanda  is  over  there.  I  know  Amanda; 
and  I  tell  you  that  boiling  foaming  sea, 
broad  as  it  is,  would  be  nothing  for  her  to 
cross  if  she  got  her  dander  up. 

"So,  if  Amanda  conies  here,  I  shall  go  to 
Heaven  and  bid  you  an  eternal  farewell.  But 
if  she  ascends  to  live  with  the  angels,  then 
look  out  for  me  here  at  once.  I  shall  instant- 
ly return  to  this  place,  to  take  up  my  peace- 
ful and  happy  abode  with  you  inhabitants  of 
the  infernal  regions,  forever." 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN 


145 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN 


i. 

Clear  Lake  lay  outspread  in  quiet  beauty 
in  the  light  of  the  setting  sun.  A  sail  rigged 
skiff  made  a  slanting  white  rent  in  its  purple 
mantle.  On  the  west  bank  a  long  curving 
sweep  of  cypress  trees  fringed  the  shore  as 
far  as  the  eye  could  reach.  On  the  east  at  in- 
tervals of  a  mile  or  more,  plantation  homes 
with  their  attendant  array  of  negro  cabins 
and  broad  intervening  fields  of  corn  and 
cotton  approached  the  waters  edge  as  if  med- 
itating a  plunge  in  the  waves. 

A  tin  bugle  calling  the  hands  from  work 
sounded  faintly,  while  the  notes  mellowed 
by  distance  seemed  like  a  requiem  to  the  de- 
parted day.  Near  the  timber  line  a  negro 

147 


148  A   MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN. 

was  calling  hogs  from  the  depths  of  the 
swamp  with  the  plaintive  cry  so  well  known 
in  the  South.  It  went  echoing  on  its  way 
across  the  Lake  only  to  be  caught  up  and 
flung  back  by  the  dark  forest  which  lined  the 
opposite  shore.  A  gun  was  fired  in  the  woods. 
Then  came  the  tinkle  of  a  remote  cow  bell; 
and  later  the  voice  of  some  one  driving  cattle 
in  the  field. 

After  a  while  the  Lake  began  to  indulge 
in  some  of  her  coquettish  ways;  and  having 
worn  first  a  morning  robe  of  blue,  and  then 
an  afternoon  gown  of  silver  gray,  she  now 
put  on  a  pink  evening  dress,  and  commenced 
receiving  attentions  from  a  thousand  stars 
that  were  casting  tremulous  glances  of  ad- 
miration upon  her. 

As  the  flirtation  went  on  the  owls  broke 
into  laughter  in  the  shadowy  woods,  a  mock- 
ing bird  warbled  from  a  pendant  vine,  a  ne- 
gro man  came  up  the  dusky  road  singing  a 
hymn,  while  lights  from  distant  homes 
twinkled  along  the  misty  line  of  the  darken- 
ing shore. 

One  of  these  lights  streamed  from  a  dwel- 
ling which  surrounded  by  a  grove  of  oak  and 


A   MISUNDERSTOOD    MAN.  149 

beecn  was  not  fifty  yards  from  where  the 
waves  were  rippling  against  the  shelving 
bank.  It  was  one  of  the  many  wide  porched 
broad  hailed  and  white  pillared  homes  for 
which  the  Southland  is  distinguished. 

Its  present  owner  and  occupier  was  Fred 
Stanley  a  bachelor  of  twenty-eight  years. 
With  such  an  occupant,  it  is  not  to  be  won- 
dered at,  that  the  house  had  something  of 
that  neglected  air  which  is  certain  to  appear 
from  the  absence  of  the  hand  and  presence 
of  a  woman. 

Rumor  however  was  very  busy  at  this 
time,  to  the  effect  that  a  female  head  would 
soon  be  introduced  to  the  Stanley  mansion ; 
that  this  fact  accounted  for  the  recent  addi- 
tion of  a  wing,  and  the  extraordinary  amount 
of  painting,  plastering  and  general  improv- 
ing now  being  received  by  the  building. 

Report  also  said  that  the  fair  one  had  cap- 
tured Stanley  while  he  was  on  a  business  trip 
to  Yazoo  City,  and  that  she  was  a  remark- 
ably handsome  girl  of  nineteen  with  black 
hair  and  eyes,  and  looked  and  walked  like  a 
queen.  Just  how  the  gossipers  had  discover- 
ed the  peculiar  appearance  and  locomotive 


150  A   MISUNDERSTOOD    MAN. 

powers  of  feminine  Royalty  does  not  appear, 
inasmuch  as  none  of  them  in  their  travels 
had  ever  seen  a  foreign  country,  and  the 
greater  number  had  never  been  farther  than 
the  counties  of  Holmes  and  Yazoo. 

To  all  this  floating  talk  our  young  bach- 
elor listened  with  a  smiling  countenance,  on- 
ly saying  "Perhaps  so,"  and  "Maybe  so"  and 
"Wait  and  see." 

There  was  another  bit  of  news,  which  of 
course  was  not  repeated  to  Stanley, .to  the 
effect  that  Blanche  Osmond,  the  young  lady 
in  question,  had  another  admirer  beside  him- 
self who  stood  so  high  in  her  favor,  that  it 
was  quite  a  while  before  she  decided  to  give 
up  her  impecunious  suitor  and  take  instead 
the  wealthy  young  Mississippi  planter.  Peo- 
ple wondered  if  it  was  so,  but  no  one  had  the 
hardihood  to  ask  the  man  with  the  clear  cut 
face  and  determined  brow,  if  such  had  been 
the  case.  If  it  was  true,  Stanley  never  men- 
tioned the  fact  to  his  nearest  friend. 

He  was  not  a  man  given  to  being  confiden- 
tial with  everybody,  though  by  nature  he 
was  sunny  spirited,  and  open  hearted.  Social 
in  his  habits,  yet  trained  in  a  Military  Aca- 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD    MAN.  151 

demy,  bereaved  of  his  parents  before  he  was 
twenty,  and  living  much  per  force  to  himself 
on  his  plantation,  he  had  by  education,  an 
unsought  solitariness,  and  business  habits, 
learned  some  most  profitable  lessons  on  the 
lines  of  reticence  and  self-control. 

His  soldierly  bearing  and  resolute  face, 
set  off  with  a  tawny  moustache  and  short 
sharp  pointed  chin  beard  made  him  in  ap- 
pearance a  man  that  a  regiment  would  con- 
fidently have  followed  as  a  leader  in  a  battle 
charge.  In  the  social  circle,  this  same  hand- 
some countenance  and  princely  carriage  not 
only  attracted  glances  of  admiration  from 
women,  but  brought  upon  him  as  well  the 
approving  looks  of  his  own  sex. 

He  fought  valiantly  in  the  Civil  War  first 
as  a  Captain  and  finally  as  a  Colonel.  When 
the  Surrender  took  place,  his  two  hundred 
slaves  were  set  free;  but  he  had  his  large 
landed  estate  left,  and  this  with  its  rentals 
and  sub-rentals  brought  him  in  an  income  of 
ample  nature. 

The  night  just  spoken  of  he  had  finished 
his  supper,  and  tilted  back  in  a  rocker  on  the 


152  A   MISUNDERSTOOD    MAN. 

spacious  verandah  with  a  briar  root  pipe  in 
his  mouth,  was  looking  at  the  star  lighted 
beauty  of  the  Lake  spread  before  him,  and 
later  giving  numerous  directions  to  Joe,  his 
negro  Driver  as  that  overseer  of  field  hands 
is  called  in  the  South.  The  man  stood  lean- 
ing against  the  steps,  hat  in  hand,  ejaculat- 
ing "Yes  Sah !"  and  "Naw  Sah !",  and  getting 
his  periodic  responses  wonderfully  mixed  up 
and  confounded  as  the  conversation  proceed- 
ed. 

Joe  in  time  gave  way  to  Millie  the  colored 
housekeeper  and  waitress  in  the  bachelor 
domicile.  She  was  attired  in  the  regulation 
red  handkerchief  turban,  blue  cottonade 
dress  and  white  apron.  Fond  of  Stanley  who 
had  formerly  owned  her,  yet  at  the  present 
moment  she  was  quite  perturbed  in  mind  at 
the  prospect  of  a  new  mistress  arriving  and 
ousting  her  from  the  domestic  throne  where 
she  had  so  long  reigned,  and  the  bringing 
in  of  some  negro  damsel  from  the  city  to 
take  her  place.  In  fact  she  so  expressed  her- 
self. 

"I  spec*  yoh  new  wife  gwine  to  be  so  mon- 
stus  fine,  dat  she  kain  stan'  me  an'  my  ole 
man  Sandy  rounst  her." 


A   MISUNDERSTOOD    MAN.  153 

"My  new  wife,"  said  Stanley  looking  up 
with  a  smile,  "I  never  had  an  old  one,  or  any 
other  kind  yet  to  my  knowledge,  so  how  can 
I  have  a  new  one?" 

"Oh  you  knows  Mars  F'ed  whut  I  mean. 
You  neenter  badger  me  dat  way  jes  kase  Ise 
a  poh  ignunt  nigger.  I  jest  axin  you  kase  I 
wants  to  know  whut  kin  she  do  bouten  yoh 
aigs  an'  coffee?  Foh  she  ketch  on  you  done 
bin  starved." 

"You  need  not  be  afraid  Millie;  I  heard 
her  say  that  she  could  not  bear  to  keep  house, 
and  so  you  will  have  it  all  your  own  way." 

"Hunh!"  grunted  the  spoiled  servant, 
"whut  she  spec'  to  do  den !  Is  she  gwine  to 
hoi'  her  hans  an'  order  me  an'  Sandy  an'  all 
de  res'  ur  us  niggers  aroun'  ?" 

Stanley  flecked  with  his  finger  the  white 
ash  from  the  bowl  of  his  pipe,  and  with  a 
partly  amused,  partly  worried  air  said  firm- 
ly: 

"You  just  attend  to  your  own  business 
about  the  house  Millie  as  you  are  employed 
to  do,  and  there  will  be  no  trouble  at  all  about 
the  other  matters." 


154  A   MISUNDERSTOOD    MAN. 

The  sound  of  the    iron  in  her   master's 

voice,  brought  the  servant  to  herself  at  once 

as  it  had  frequently  done  before;  and  she 

went     off   humming  a  mournful    sounding 

/      hymn,  a  custom  almost  invariable  with  the 

— ^M^W^M^M         — * ^** »™^M^^^» 

negro  woman  when  non  plussed  and  taken 
aback  in  any  way. 

For  quite  awhile  after  Millie  left,  Stanley 
sat  in  his  rocker  buried  in  meditation  which 
evidently  from  the  expression  of  his  face  was 
of  a  very  pleasing  character. 

The  woman's  question  had  naturally 
brought  back  to  his  mind  the  history  of  his 
acquaintance  and  engagement  to  Blanche 
Osmond.  He  recalled  how  when  walking 
one  evening  with  a  friend  on  Broadway  in 
Yazoo  City,  he  had  first  met  her.  He  bore 
away  the  impression  of  a  pair  of  fine  dark 
eyes  and  a  superb  figure.  His  friend  told 
him  she  was  from  a  town  in  southern  Louis- 
iana. 

Not  expecting  to  see  her  again,  yet  two 
hours  later  upon  entering  the  parlor  of  a 
family  he  knew,  she  rose  up  with  the  rest  to 
greet  him.  She  was  attired  in  a  dress  of  rich 
crimson  that  became  well  her  brunette  beau- 


A   MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN.  155 

ty;  and  this  time  as  he  looked  at  the  stately 
girl  with  her  snow  white  hand  resting  on  a 
rose  wood  table,  he  felt  with  a  thrill  at  the 
heart,  that  any  man  would  be  fortunate  in- 
deed to  secure  such  a  woman  for  his  wife. 

Before  he  left  that  night  he  had  to  acknow- 
ledge to  himself  that  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life  he  was  deeply  in  love. 

He  made  repeated  visits  from  his  planta- 
tion to  town,  sent  his  charmer  presents  of 
books,  music  and  flowers  with  the  inevitable 
box  of  choice  candy,  and  in  two  months  time 
was  an  accepted  suitor. 

While  Blanche  had  a  half  dozen  admirers, 
there  was  but  one  who  could  really  have  been 
called  a  rival.  George  Varley  was  about 
Stanley's  age,  of  a  good  Mississippi  family, 
and  had  come  recently  to  Yazoo  City  to 
practice  law.  He  dressed  well,  talked  well, 
and  was  sought  after  in  every  kind  of  social 
entertainment.  He  was  a  man  that  women 
called  fascinating.  With  but  few  exceptions 
the  gentler  sex  of  the  town  admired  him. 
When  his  face  was  in  repose,  his  heavy 
drooping  black  moustache  assisted  in  giving 
him  a  pensive  air  which  was  quite  captivat- 


156  A   MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN. 

ing  to  some  of  his  female  friends.  In  addi- 
tion he  possessed  a  soft  low  confident  kind 
of  laugh  which  would  be  hard  to  describe, 
and  that  not  a  few  disliked  to  hear  without 
being  able  to  tell  exactly  why. 

Concerning  his  temporal  circumstances, 
Varley  frankly  stated  that  he  had  nothing; 
that  he  would  like  to  marry,  but  could  not, 
as  he  was  unable  to  keep  a  wife  in  that  com- 
fort and  luxury  which  he  thought  was  due 
a  woman. 

The  four  months  visit  of  Blanche  Osmond 
was  drawing  to  a  close.  In  ten  days  more 
she  would  take  a  steamboat  for  Vicksburg 
and  then  down  the  Mississippi  to  her  home 
on  the  Coast.  Stanley  in  a  month's  time  was 
to  follow,  and  bring  her  back  a  bride. 

There  had  been  several  things  about  his 
fiancee  which  had  somewhat  disturbed  the 
young  planter.  One  was  the  self  collected 
way  in  which  she  had  accepted  his  offer  of 
marriage.  Second  her  remark  already  quot- 
ed about  housekeeping;  and  still  another 
speech  made  by  her  one  evening  in  the  home 
circle  where  she  was  staying.  The  family 
were  speaking  about  the  marriage  of  girls  to 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN.  157 

poor  men,  when  she  was  asked  what  she 
thought  about  it.  Her  quick  reply  as  if  sur- 
prised out  of  some  habitual  caution  was : 

"My  father  is  a  struggling  lawyer  with  a 
large  family.  From  my  childhood  I  have 
heard  nothing  but  the  cry  of  'hard  times'  and 
the  necessity  of  economy.  Our  home  life 
was  one  of  constant  pinching  to  make  ends 
meet.  Our  shoes  were  patched  and  half 
soled,  and  our  dresses  turned  again  and 
again.  My  soul  fairly  sickened  over  these 
things,  and  as  I  grew  up  I  determined  never 
to  marry  any  but  a  rich  man." 

"But  suppose  you  loved  a  poor  man,"  ask- 
ed a  lady  boarder  in  the  family. 

"I  would  not  marry  him,"  hotly  replied  the 
girl  with  a  quick  impatient  tap  of  her  pretty 
foot  on  the  floor. 

"Would  you  marry  a  rich  man  without 
loving  him?"  pursued  the  same  questioner 
with  a  thoughtful  anxious  look  on  her  face. 

A  kind  of  heart  tempest  seemed  to  sweep 
over  the  young  woman,  and  her  voice  was 
full  of  suppressed  feeling,  and  her  eyes  had  a 
smoldering  fire  burning  in  them  as  she  re- 
joined: 


158  A   MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN. 

"I  certainly  would!  Why  not?  He  has  his 
capital  in  money,  and  mine  I  am  told  is  my 
beauty.  Why  not  put  the  two  together?  He 
wants  mine,  and  I  need  his.  No,  I  would 
never  marry  a  poor  man." 

Stanley  came  in  unannounced  while  this 
last  speech  was  being  made,  and  stood  in  the 
door  way  a  silent  listener.  He  thought  he 
had  never  seen  her  look  as  handsome,  and 
yet  her  words  filled  him  with  a  nameless 
pain  and  foreboding. 

At  the  same  moment  she  looked  up  and 
saw  him.  Her  face  crimsoned,  but  with  per- 
fect self  possession  she  greeted  him  with 
such  a  fond  glad  look  and  warm  pressure  of 
the  hand,  that  his  heart  pang  was  all  gone  in 
a  moment. 

A  fourth  matter  which  disturbed  him  was 
that  whenever  Varley  was  present,  while 
Blanche  would  redouble  her  attentions  to 
her  accepted  lover  and  say  but  little  to  the 
other,  yet  she  would  show  at  times  an  un- 
easiness not  to  say  agitation  that  was  unac- 
countable. Once  he  caught  her  looking  fur- 
tively at  Varley  who  serene  as  a  May  morn- 
ing sat  near  the  window  stroking  his  mous- 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN.  159 

tache  and  smiling  benevolently  at  the  flower 
garden  outside. 

Stanley  however  was  the  soul  of  honor; 
and  the  intrusion  of  every  suspicion  would 
be  met  with  an  instant  rejection  as  being 
unworthy  of  himself,  and  an  insult  to  the 
woman  whom  he  loved  with  his  whole  heart. 

For  nearly  an  hour  the  young  planter  had 
been  lost  in  reverie,  his  rocker  was  still,  and 
a  cigar  which  he  had  lighted  was  held  for- 
gotten between  his  fingers.  The  woman's 
queenly  beauty  was  in  the  ascendant,  and  his 
thoughts  had  become  not  only  pleasant,  but 
tender,  as  could  be  seen  by  the  smiling  lines 
about  the  mouth. 

The  clock  from  a  mantel  within  was  strik- 
ing eight  when  he  heard  the  galloping  of  a 
horse  on  the  Lake  shore  road,  a  slam  of  the 
big  gate,  and  a  moment  later  Sandy,  his 
valet,  hostler  and  general  help,  put  in  an  ap- 
pearance at  the  steps  with  a  package  of  mail 
in  his  hand. 

"Mars  Fred  hyers  er  bundle  er  papers  jes 
put  offen  de  boat  dis  ev'nin  Sah,  as  she  was 
gwine  up  Sah.  Mr.  Bentley  at  de  Landin'  say 


160  A  MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN. 

de  Cap'n  tole  him  dat  one  dah  was  veh'y  im- 
portun'." 

Stanley  took  the  package  and  walked  into 
his  lighted  room  to  examine  the  parcel.  The 
apartment  was  a  typical  bachelor's  den.  A 
handsome  fishing  rod  was  over  the  mantel, 
a  rifle  and  fowling  piece  leaned  in  one  corner, 
while  a  hillock  of  boots  and  shoes  uprose  in 
another.  A  large  round  table  stood  in  the 
center  of  the  room  containing  writing  mater- 
ials, some  books  and  newspapers,  a  box  of 
cigars,  a  sack  of  smoking  tobacco,  several 
kinds  of  pipes  and  a  porcelain  match  case, 
Behind  his  trunk  under  the  bed,  and  back  of 
the  wardrobe  and  bureau  were  a  remarkable 
assortment  of  slippers,  bootjacks,  blacking 
brushes,  walking  canes,  buggy  whips,  spurs 
and  other  things  too  numerous  to  mention. 
These  treasures  Millie  had  been  commanded 
not  to  touch,  on  pain  of  instant  excommun- 
ication from  the  house,  and  the  installment 
of  another  African  dame  to  take  her  place. 
So  all  she  dared  to  do  was  to  keep  the  sacred 
articles  dusted,  while  relieving  herself  as  she 
did  so  with  a  low  grumbling  protest,  and  the 
occasional  prophecy. 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN.  161 

"Ef  Mars  F'ed  ever  gits  mahied,  dars 
gwine  to  be  ur  herrikin  in  dis  room  as  sho's 
you  bawn." 

As  Stanley  approached  the  table  and  un- 
tied the  bundle  his  eyes  fell  at  once  upon  a 
letter  on  top  addressed  to  himself  and  mark- 
ed "Important,"  followed  by  the  words  "See 
that  this  reaches  Mr.  Stanley  at  once." 

He  tore  the  envelope  open  and  sitting  back 
in  his  chair  read  while  Sandy  with  the  well 
known  curiosity  of  his  race,  remained  in  the 
doorway  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  his  former 
master,  and  waiting  for  some  word  or  signal 
from  him. 

He  did  not  have  to  tarry  long.  In  a  single 
minutes  time  he  saw  Stanley  become  deadly 
pale,  his  breathing  labored,  and  then  the  let- 
ter flutter  from  his  trembling  hand  to  the 
floor,  while  the  stricken  man  regardless  of  its 
fall,  sat  staring  fixedly  at  the  wall. 

Sandy  who  had  played  with  Stanley  when 
a  boy,  and  had  been  his  body  guard  and  at- 
tendant through  the  war,  was  devoted  to 
him,  and  felt  a  genuine  alarm  and  grief  at  the 
spectacle  of  the  unmistakeable  trouble  be- 
fore him. 


162  A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN. 

"Mars  Fred"  he  cried,  "In  de  name  ur 
goodness  whuts  de  matter." 

There  was  no  answer  from  his  employer, 
who  really  had  not  heard  a  word  his  servant 
had  spoken. 

The  letter  lay  wide  open  on  the  carpet, 
and  with  the  well  known  privilege  granted 
the  reader  and  author,  we  bend  over  the 
pages  and  read  it  together.  It  was  written 
in  a  clear  firm  hand  and  evidently  by  a 
woman. 

Yazoo  City,  May  3,  18. . 
Mr.  Fred  Stanley, 

Dear  Sir: — • 

You  will  pardon  what  may  seem 
to  be  a  great  piece  of  presumption  on  my 
part,  but  I  cannot  see  your  life  and  happiness 
sacrificed  without  giving  you  warning. 

The  woman  to  whom  you  are  engaged  is 
utterly  false  to  you,  and  undeserving  your 
love  or  respect.  I  have  seen  enough  with  my 
own  eyes  on  three  occasions  to  convince  me 
of  her  perfidy,  and  of  the  fact  that  you  are 
a  deeply  wronged  man. 

She  evidently  loves  George  Varley  and  per- 


A   MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN.  163 

mits  him  liberties  that  no  woman  engaged 
to  a  man  could  ever  grant  another  and  be  a 
true  and  pure  woman.  She  of  course  has 
taken  great  precautions  to  conceal  from  the 
public  eye  what  I  write  you;  but  I  have  seen 
these  happenings  when  the  public  was  not 
around,  but  in  bed  and  asleep. 

You  have  been  away  now  some  days  from 
town,  and  she  does  not  look  for  you  until  a 
week  hence,  as  she  knows  your  business  af- 
fairs are  keeping  you  engaged.  It  is  during 
the  past  few  days  that  I  have  beheld  the  oc- 
currences to  which  I  alluded.  She  has  had 
three  buggy  rides  after  dark  with  Mr.  Var- 
ley,  coming  in  late  when  most  people  have 
retired.  This  very  evening  she  is  to  go  ten 
miles  down  the  river  in  a  buggy  with  him  to 
a  dance  or  party  of  some  kind  given  at 
Colonel  Boltons.  They  will  not  get  back  to 
town  before  one  o'clock  tonight. 

If  you  doubt  what  I  tell  you,  you  can  ob- 
tain the  ocular  proof  by  hastening  here,  and 
stationing  yourself  not  later  than  a  quarter 
before  one,  behind  the  honeysuckle  frame 
on  the  left  side  of  the  porch  of  the  house 
where  she  is  staying.  These  are  moonless 


164  A   MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN. 

nights,  but  you  will  see  enough  to  know 
that  I  have  not  warned  you  without  cause, 
as  I  deeply  regret  to  say. 

I  send  this  up  by  the  boat  to-day,  and  mark 
it  "Important"  with  the  request  to  the  Ware 
House  man  at  the  Landing  to  see  that  you 
get  it  at  once. 

I  am  a  woman  as  you  see  by  the  hand- 
writing, but  I  have  no  designs  on  you  or 
yours.  I  am  a  married  woman  and  twenty 
years  older  than  yourself  old  enough  in- 
deed to  be  your  Mother.  As  God  knows  my 
heart  I  feel  only  a  mother's  interest  and  a 
Christian  solicitude  for  you.  If  necessary  I 
am  willing  to  let  you  and  Miss  Osmond  know 
who  I  am. 

There  was  no  signature  to  the  letter,  but 
it  needed  none.  The  truth  fairly  throbbed 
through  all  the  calm  plain  statement  of  facts. 

Five  minutes  had  gone  by,  and  Stanley 
had  not  changed  his  position  or  altered  his 
fixed  abstracted  look.  He  gave  no  other 
outward  sign  of  what  was  going  on  within ; 
but  if  a  hand  had  clutched  and  wrung  his 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN.  165 

heart,  he  could  hardly  have  endured  greater 
agony. 

Meantime  light  came  pouring  in  on  events 
of  the  past,  bringing  dreadful  confirmation 
of  suspicion,  while  Hope  still  clung  to  the 
possibility  of  some  ghastly  mistake,  and  Love 
reached  out  its  hands  and  cried  over  the 
shattered  idol. 

Sandy's  round  bronze  face  had  tears  cov- 
ering it  when  he  spoke  again. 

"Mars  Fred,  kin  I  do  anythin'  fur  you.  It 
huts  me  pow'ful  bad  to  see  you  ur  grievin' 
dis  way." 

Stanley  withdrew  his  eyes  from  the  wall 
with  a  great  effort,  let  them  rest  on  his  ser- 
vant, and  with  a  voice  vibrant  with  suffering 
said: 

"Saddle  Roebuck  and  Wykoff  quickly  and 
bring  them  around." 

Then  noticing  the  look  of  sorrow  and  sym- 
pathy on  the  negro's  face,  he  spoke  again 
laying  his  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"Don't  mind  me  Sandy  Boy.  I'm  all  right. 
But  quick  with  the  horses;  we  have  not  a 
minute  to  lose." 

Sandy  brushed  the  tears  from  his  cheek 


106  A  MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN. 

with  the  back  of  his  hand,  and  was  off  like 
a  shot. 

II. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  beat  of  the  hoofs  of 
Roebuck  and  Wykoff  died  away  upon  the 
listening  ears  of  those  on  the  Buena  Vista 
Plantation,  and  the  riders  swept  swiftly 
down  the  lake  shore  toward  the  "Landing" 
on  the  Yazoo  River  four  miles  away. 

Stanley  had  quickly  thought  out  his  plan. 
He  knew  from  the  present  state  of  high 
water  that  all  the  bayous  in  the  Swamp  were 
full  and  would  so  delay  him  in  crossing  and 
heading,  that  he  could  never  reach  Yazoo 
City  by  horseback  at  the  hour  mentioned  in 
the  note.  He  at  the  same  time  remembered 
that  the  steamboat  which  had  gone  up  at 
midday,  made  what  was  called  "The  Short 
Trip,"  going  only  to  the  head  of  Honey  Is- 
land, and  so  would  soon  return,  passing  the 
"Landing"  at  about  9  or  10  o'clock  that 
night,  and  giving  him  the  best  and  only 
chance  indeed  of  reaching  the  desired  desti- 
nation in  time. 

Deflecting  at  last  from  the  lake  upon  whose 


A   MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN.  167 

bosom  the  descending  Venus  was  leaving  a 
trail  of  fire,  the  riders  pursued  their  course 
through  the  woods,  and  after  a  hard  gallop 
stood  on  the  banks  of  the  Yazoo. 

Sandy  soon  built  a  large  fire  out  of  chunks 
and  knots  which  he  picked  up  under  the  trees, 
and  the  flames  leaping  up  threw  a  broad 
band  of  golden  light  across  the  flowing 
stream  to  the  opposite  shore.  Sitting  down 
they  silently  waited  for  the  coming  packet. 
Far  away  through  the  still  spring  night  they 
could  faintly  hear  her  whistle,  blowing  for 
landings  five  miles  away  overland,  and  ten 
by  water.  Nearer  and  clearer  and  fuller 
came  the  sound,  and  at  last  the  boat  turned 
the  bend  of  the  river  with  her  lights  flash- 
ing, her  red  and  green  lamps  shining  steadily 
on  the  forward  deck,  and  the  furnace  doors, 
opened  for  a  moment,  sending  a  lurid  glare 
over  the  waters  and  against  the  wooded 
banks. 

Now  then  was  Sandy's  time  to  wave  his 
fire  brand,  while  the  sparks  scattered  in  the 
air  with  the  movement;  but  the  boat  made 
no  return  signal.  He  waved  again,  and  high- 
er; and  still  no  recognition  of  the  sign.  Per- 


168  A   MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN. 

haps  the  pilot  and  lookout  did  not  see  it. 
Once  more  went  up  the  blazing  torch  and 
then! — the  soft  musical  whistle  floated  out, 
and  a  minute  after  the  deep  toned  bell  fol- 
lowed with  a  solemn  sound  the  dying  echoes 
of  the  whistle  that  still  reverberated  down 
the  river.  A  few  moments  more  and  the 
silvery  jingle  of  the  bells  in  the  engine  room 
were  heard,  the  great  wheels  rested  from 
their  long  and  steady  beat  of  the  waves,  and 
an  iron  bracket  filled  with  burning  odorous 
pine  knots  threw  out  a  red  smoky  radiance, 
illuminating  a  group  of  deck  hands  in  the 
bow,  and  bringing  out  of  the  darkness  the 
forms  of  the  two  men  and  horses  on  the 
shore. 

Next  the  boat  turned  gracefully  in  the 
stream  and  headed  up  gently  against  the 
bank.  The  Mates  voice  rang  out  like  a  fog 
horn: 

"Shove  out  that  plank!  Quick  about  it! 
Confound  your  lazy  hides,  are  you  going  to 
take  all  night  about  it!  Heave  away  there 
men !" 

The  narrow  plank  just  touched  the  bank, 
and  Stanley  with  a  hasty  goodbye  to  Sandy, 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN.  169 

stepped  swiftly  along  its  length  to  the  boat, 
and  ascended  the  steps,  as  the  great  bell 
gave  a  toll,  the  little  ones  of  the  engine  room 
merrily  jingled,  and  amid  loud  orders  from 
the  ever  boisterous  officer,  the  plank  fell  with 
heavy  echoing  sound  on  the  deck,  the  steam- 
er turned  her  bow  down  stream,  and  with 
quick  beat  of  the  paddles  rushed  on  her  way 
to  Yazoo  City;  while  Sandy  on  Wykoff  and 
leading  Roebuck  returned  homeward 
through  the  shadowy  forest. 

As  Stanley  after  a  brief  visit  to  the  clerks 
office,  moved  away  from  the  noisy  group  in 
the  gentlemen's  saloon  and  ascended  to  the 
hurricane  deck,  he  noticed  by  his  watch  that 
it  was  not  yet  ten  o'clock. 

Taking  a  chair  well  forward,  he  gave  him- 
self up  unrestrainedly  to  his  gloomy 
thoughts.  What  a  mission  he  was  on !  To 
discover  that  very  night  if  the  one  he  loved 
most  was  untrue  to  him;  and  if  suspicion 
proved  correct,  to  find  the  same  night  in  the 
woman's  treachery  his  own  life  wretched- 
ness. 

A  starry  Southern  sky  was  overhead.  The 
forest  loomed  up  on  either  side  like  two  long 


170  A  MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN. 

black  cliffs  through  which  the  steamer  sped 
its  swift  way.  Ahead  the  river  with  its 
steely  gleam  in  the  starlight  would  seem  to 
terminate,  but  as  the  bend  wTould  be  reached 
and  turned,  the  shadowy  banks  would  open 
like  a  gateway  and  there  would  be  seen  an- 
other stretch  of  star  lighted  water  inviting 
onward  the  rushing  vessel. 

It  is  questionable  whether  the  melancholy 
thinker  saw  any  parable  or  hint  in  this  scene 
of  nature  as  to  sudden  openings  and  deliver- 
ance for  the  despairing  heart  and  walled  up 
life.  He  simply  gazed  forward  with  the  one 
aching  desire  to  get  to  the  end  of  his  jour- 
ney and  find  there  his  respite  or  doom. 

The  trees  on  the  shore  were  full  of  Katy- 
dids, and  the  night  air  was  laden  with  their 
song  which  could  be  heard  above  the  cough 
of  the  escape  pipe  and  the  heavy  beat  of  the 
steamers  paddles.  They  were  singing  "Katy 
did"  and  "Katy  didn't,"  all  the  way  down  the 
river.  There  was  a  division  among  them 
about  the  matter.  Stanley  never  heard  their 
chant  afterwards,  without  connecting  it 
with  this  memorable  sorrowful  night. 

Desiring  for  a  moment  to  escape  from  his 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN.  171 

reflections,  he  glanced  back  and  upward  at 
the  pilot  house.  He  could  but  imperfectly 
see  the  shadowed  face  and  upper  part  of  the 
man's  form  there  as  he  silently  stood  now 
on  one  side  of  the  wheel,  and  then  with  a 
slow  movement  would  pass  over  to  the  other. 
Often  he  would  make  no  change  for  minutes, 
but  stand  with  an  arm  stretched  along  the 
tops  of  the  spokes  with  his  face  looking  sil- 
ently and  fixedly  forward. 

The  time  was  coming  when  Stanley  would 
again  see  that  same  man  in  another  pilot 
house  but  under  such  circumstances  of  hor- 
ror that  he  would  carry  the  scene  with  him 
through  Eternity. 

The  Captain  sat  in  a  chair  close  to  the 
front  guards,  with  his  head  and  body  bent 
in  a  meditative  position.  Stanley  remembered 
that  the  man  had  a  touching  history  which 
was  only  partly  known  to  the  public.  It  was 
said  that  he  loved  a  very  superior  young- 
woman,  and  had  been,  or  was  still  engaged 
to  her.  Ten  or  fifteen  years  had  rolled  past 
and  they  had  not  married.  Rumor  said  they 
never  would!  That  something  which  no 
one  understood  had  happened,  and  they 


172  A  MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN. 

could  not  wed.  So  our  young  planter  with  a 
great  pity  looked  at  the  bowed  figure  and 
said  to  himself: . . 

"How  many  life  tragedies  are  taking  place 
all  around  us,  and  we  do  not  know  them.  I 
j  am  only  one  out  of  a  great  number  of  brok- 
/  enhearted  men." 

The  Katydids  seemed  to  sing  even  more 
plaintively  after  this,  but  they  did  not  reveal 
the  secret  they  were  chanting  about.  They 
said  "Katy  did"  and  "Katy  didn't,"  which 
simply  left  the  matter  in  the  same  old  tangle 
and  mystery  of  the  centuries. 

Stanley  wondered  if  it  was  not  really  true 
as  he  had  heard  as  a  boy,  that  a  woman  was 
at  the  bottom  of  all  the  trouble  in  the  world. 
He  remembered  a  Ranche  on  a  western  prai- 
rie which  was  fifty  miles  from  any  human 
habitation,  and  where  he  had  been  belated 
once  in  crossing  the  plains.  In  the 
lonely  cabin  he  found  a  solitary  book 
with  the  title  "Betrayed  By  A  Woman." 
The  owner  of  the  place  was  not  there,  nor 
did  he  appear  before  Stanley  left;  but  he  felt 
somehow  from  the  well  thumbed  condition 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN.  173 

of  the  volume,  that  the  book  in  some  measure 
reflected  the  history  of  the  hermit. 

He  found  himself  thinking  of  the  Sorceress 
of  the  Nile  and  the  noble  Roman  whom  she 
ruined.  Then  his  eyes  fell  again  upon  the 
lonely  figure  of  the  Captain.  He  knew  from 
occasional  movements  of  his  hand  that  he 
was  not  asleep.  The  woman  he  loved  was 
far  away,  and  here  he  was,  the  man  who 
loved  her,  bowed  down  and  alone  in  the 
night.  Stanley  wondered  if  she  ever  lost  any 
sleep  on  his  account;  and  thought  bitterly  'I 
guess  not'  as  he  flung  his  cigar  in  the  waves. 

Again  he  glanced  up  at  the  unlighted  pilot 
house,  and  beheld  the  dimly  outlined  figure 
at  its  vigil,  the  left  arm  was  still  resting  on 
top  of  the  wheel,  and  the  shadowed  face  still 
looked  fixedly  down  the  river.  He  wondered 
if  the  silent  helmsman  up  there  had  any 
heart  history,  if  any  woman  had  ever  tortur- 
ed his  mind  or  blasted  his  life.  He  marvel- 
led if  back  of  his  steady  gaze  now  directed 
down  the  stream  there  were  thoughts  of  such 
an  one  whom  he  desired  or  dreaded  to  meet, 
and  to  whom  every  revolution  of  the  wheels 
was  bringing  him. 


174  A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN. 

There  was  no  way  of  finding  out,  and  the 
restless  man  turned  back  to  the  contempla- 
tion of  the  night,  and  to  listen  to  the  divided 
testimony  of  the  Katydids,  some  of  whom 
still  continued  to  affirm  that  she  did,  while 
others  as  persistently  declared  that  she  did 
not. 

Having  but  a  couple  of  landings,  the  boat 
made  a  swift  run,  and  so  a  little  after  mid- 
night she  blew  her  calliope-like  whistle  for 
Yazoo  City,  and  hardly  twenty  minutes  af- 
terward Stanley  was  walking  up  the  dark  and 
silent  streets  of  the  town,  his  steps  echoing 
from  the  store  fronts  and  walls  with  a  drea- 
ry foreboding  sound. 

Lights  had  been  extinguished  everywhere 
except  at  one  residence  where  there  seemed 
to  be  a  social  or  musical  gathering.    A  wo- 
man's magnificent  voice  was  singing  "The 
Crimson  Bird."     For  two  or  three  minutes 
after  he  passed  he  could  hear  the  singer  and 
even  some  of  the  words : 
"Oh  list  not  to  the  Crimson  Bird 
That  sings  on  yonder  vine 

There  is  a  voice  of  sweeter  note, 
Tis  thine  dear  love,  tis  thine; 


A   MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN.  175 

There  is  a  voice  of  sweeter  note 
Tis  thine  dear  love,  tis  thine. 

Oh  gaze  not  on  yon  distant  star 
That  beams  with  rays  divine; 

There  is  an  eye  with  brighter  light, 
Tis  thine  sweet  love,  tis  thine; 

There  is  an  eye  with  brighter  light, 
Tis  thine  sweet  love,  tis  thine." 

He  remembered  how  the  woman  he  loved 
delighted  to  dress  in  crimson.  As  for  the 
light  of  her  dark  eyes,  how  could  he  forget ! 

Passing  in  half  a  block  of  the  jail  he  sud- 
denly recollected  that  a  white  man  who  had 
been  a  Confederate  soldier  was  to  be  hung 
in  the  morning.  Glancing  down  the  street 
he  saw  the  gallows  standing  up  stark  in  the 
starlight,  and  wondered  if  the  man  was 
asleep  or  awake,  and  whether  he  heard  the 
woman  singing. 

He  noticed  as  he  walked  on,  that  the  dogs 
were  barking  all  over  the  town.  The  wo- 
man's voice  had  doubtless  aroused  them, 
but  he  knew  the  negroes  would  say  that 
they  felt  or  saw  the  presence  of  death. 


176  A   MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN. 

Pausing  at  last  before  a  house  with  a 
large  flower  yard,  and  looking  at  his  watch 
with  the  light  of  a  match,  he  saw  that  it  lack- 
ed exactly  fifteen  minutes  to  one.  He  swift- 
ly opened  the  gate,  and  took  refuge  behind 
a  honey  suckle  frame  that  bordered  the 
porch.  It  perfectly  hid  him,  while  through 
the  vines  he  had  a  clear  view  of  the  gallery 
and  door.  He  had  scarcely  taken  his  position 
when  he  heard  the  whir  of  wheels  and  a  bug- 
gy with  two  persons  in  it  turned  the  corner. 
In  another  moment  the  speed  was  changed 
to  a  walk,  and  in  almost  a  noiseless  way  the 
vehicle  approached.  In  an  equally  quiet 
manner  the  figures  got  out  of  the  buggy, 
opened  and  shut  the  gate  softly,  and  walked 
toward  the  house  with  guarded  footsteps. 

There  was  no  trouble  in  recognizing  them 
even  in  the  starlight.  There  were  few  forms 
that  could  compare  with  the  fair  one  Stanley 
gazed  upon  from  his  covert  in  the  honey- 
suckles. With  a  sickening  heart  he  observ- 
ed that  they  were  whispering  as  they  ad- 
vanced; and  on  entering  the  porch  with 


A   MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN.  177 

soundless  footfalls,  they  did  not  approach 
the  door  but  came  to  the  most  shadowy  cor- 
ner and  in  four  feet  of  where  he  was  con- 
cealed. 

To  his  unutterable  amazement  and  agony 
he  saw  her  lift  her  face  and  entwine  her 
arms  around  Varley's  neck,  the  sleeves  fall- 
ing down  beneath  the  elbow  in  the  act,  re- 
vealing the  whiteness  and  roundness  which 
he  had  so  admired  and  of  which  he  had  been 
so  proud.  He  saw  Varley  put  his  arms  about 
her,  bend  down  his  head  and  their  lips  meet; 
and  thus  they  stood  for  a  minute. 

For  some  moments  Stanley  thought  he 
would  suffocate,  and  his  veins  burst  with  the 
blood  that  swelled  and  packed  them.  Ex- 
citement, fury,  indignation,  all  strove  in  his 
tortured  heart.  For  an  instant  he  came  near 
rushing  out  and  murdering  the  man,  and 
then  dashing  the  woman  upon  the  ground, 
grinding  his  heel  in  her  false  and  beautiful 
face  and  spurning  her  from  his  presence  for- 
ever. 

Like  a  flash  however  came  the  thought 
that  this  would  never  do,  and  with  a  stifled 
groan  he  clenched  his  hands  around  a  slat 


178  A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN. 

of  the  vine  frame,  driving  a  small  nail  deep 
into  the  flesh,  and  yet  knew  it  not  until  hours 
afterward.  The  slight  sound  however  dis- 
turbed the  pair,  and  Blanche  whispered 
quickly; 

"What  is  that?" 

"Just  the  birds  in  the  vines.  We  aroused 
them." 

Then  again  she  sank  in  his  arms. 
By  and  by  Varley  spoke  to  her  very  softly, 
but  so  distinctly  as  to  be  heard  by  the  agon- 
ized being  near  by: 

"What  would  Stanley  think  if  he  could 
see  us  now?" 

"Oh  don't  mention  him.  I  don't  want  to 
think  of  him.  I  respect  him,  but  I  love  you. 
Oh  I  wish  you  had  money  so  we  could  mar- 
ry!" 

Again  the  woman's  face  was  lifted,  and  the 
man's  head  stooped  to  meet  it  with  kisses. 

"Well  I  haven't,  and  that  just  ends  the 
matter,"  replied  Varley,  "I  have  not  enough 
to  support  us  a  week." 

After  a  few  moments  he  resumed, 
"Why  don't  you  love  Stanley?" 


A   MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN.  179 

"I  don't  know.  I  admire  the  man,  but  I 
do  not  love  him." 

"What  makes  you  love  me?" 

"I  cannot  tell,"  she  replied,  "but  when  I 
am  with  you  I  feel  like  I  am  drunk." 

Varley  laughed  his  low  triumphant  laugh 
almost  under  his  breath. 

"Please,"  she  pleaded,  "don't  laugh  that 
way.  I  can't  bear  to  hear  it." 

Several  minutes  more  passed  away,  seem- 
ing like  ages  to  the  stricken  wretched  man 
in  concealment.  And  yet  there  remained  a 
great  additional  pang  for  him. 

Varley  spoke  again, 

"When  you  are  married  and  I  am  invited 
to  visit  you  at  your  plantation,  or  your  house 
in  town,  will  you  feel  differently,  and  act  dif- 
ferently to  me  then?" 

"Oh,"  she  said  breathing  heavily,  "Don't 
ask  that.  I  will  then  be  married  to  him." 

The  young  woman  seemed  to  be  trembling 
all  over,  and  reminded  Stanley  in  spite  of 
his  mental  suffering  of  a  bird  he  had  once 
seen  charmed  by  a  serpent.  He  remember- 
ed the  distressing  sensation  it  had  produced 


180  A   MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN. 

in  him  as  stopping-  his  horse  he  looked  at  the 
sight.  The  woodland  songster  with  wings 
extended  and  quivering,  had  its  eyes  fixed 
on  the  red  open  mouth  and  basilisk  gaze  of 
the  snake  which  was  stretched  full  length 
on  the  large  limb  of  a  tree,  and  not  twelve 
inches  removed  from  its  fascinated  victim. 

How  little  he  dreamed  then  that  he  would 
behold  the  same  kind  of  thing  reproduced 
on  a  so  much  higher  scale  of  life,  and  when 
he  himself  would  be  so  bitterly  and  disas- 
trously affected. 

He  recalled  how  he  got  down  from  his 
horse  that  morning  and  taking  a  rail  from 
the  fence  drew  near  the  limb  and  with  one 
crashing  blow  killed  the  reptile  which  fell 
with  heavy  thud  upon  the  ground.  The  bird 
though  freed  from  its  captor  did  not  at  once 
fly,  but  looked  and  acted  as  if  it  was  sick, 
confused  and  partially  paralyzed.  He  recol- 
lected that  it  was  hours  before  he  could 
shake  off  the  impression  made  upon  him  by 
the  scene;  and  yet  here  he  was  beholding 
something  unspeakably  more  horrible,  where 
the  human  serpent  was  not  destroyed,  and 
the  weak  woman  who  was  thoroughly  in  the 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN.  181 

man's  power  showed  no  sign  of  disenchant- 
ment and  manifested  no  desire  for  deliver- 
ance. 

Again  Varley  spoke  to  her. 

"I  am  waiting  for  your  answer." 

The  woman  seemed  to  be  in  deep  thought; 
and  then  Stanley  saw  her  drop  her  head  on 
Varley' s  breast.  He  heard  the  betrayers 
low  soft  laugh  again,  and  then  whisper  some- 
thing. He  saw  the  being  he  had  idolized  lift 
up  her  face,  Varley  bend  to  meet  it,  and  his 
heavy  moustache  cover  her  mouth. 

Not  ten  minutes  had  elapsed  during  this 
scene  on  the  porch'  but  to  Stanley  it  seemed 
ten  years.  And  when  finally  after  more  en- 
dearments the  two  parted,  Blanche  tipping 
away  noiselessly  and  vanishing  through  the 
door,  and  Varley  walking  and  driving  off 
as  quietly  as  he  came,  the  unhappy  man  stag- 
gered out  from  his  hiding  place  and  reeled 
up  the  street  stunned,  dazed,  half  crazed  and 
feeling  like  he  had  aged  a  quarter  of  a  cen- 
tury. 

A  fourth  pair  of  eyes,  considerably  older 
than  the  others,  had  been  a  silent  witness  of 
the  scene  on  the  porch,  and  now  followed 


182  A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN. 

Stanley  with  a  tearful  glance  and  the  fervent 
petitions  "God  pity  him!  God  have  mercy 
upon  him !" 

But  the  man  knew  of  no  human  sympathy, 
felt  no  relief  from  any  quarter,  and  stagger- 
ed aimlessly  about  for  fully  half  an  hour.  He 
thought  once  of  drowning  himself  in  the  riv- 
er, then  of  shooting  himself.  He  wanted  to 
run  like  the  wind  and  leave  the  black  dreadful 
load  behind  which  was  crushing  him.  He 
felt  like  rushing  into  the  forest,  losing  him- 
self in  the  swamp,  dying  like  an  animal  in  a 
jungle,  letting  the  vultures  pick  his  bones, 
and  no  one  ever  knowing  what  had  become 
of  him.  Everything  seemed  to  cry  out  for 
suicide,  and  the  various  methods  of  self  de- 
struction came  flowing  in  tumultously  like 
stormy  waves  beating  on  a  strand. 

In  this  condition  while  wandering  from 
street  to  street,  a  watchman  met  and  recog- 
nized him,  thought  he  was  drunk  and  calling 
him  by  name,  advised  him  to  go  to  the  hotel. 

Stanley  was  in  a  mental  state  where  hu- 
man voices  were  a  torture,  and  he  broke 
away  from  the  man  and  fled  up  Adams  street 
toward  the  hills  that  skirt  the  city  on  the 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN.  183 

east.  Next  day  the  night  officer  told  it 
around  that  he  had  found  Stanley  drunk  on 
the  street  after  one  o'clock  and  he  did  not 
seem  far  from  mania  potu;  that  he  acted 
like  one  beside  himself  and  ran  from  him 
like  a  maniac.  The  report  gained  ground 
daily  and  many  believed  it.  Already  Fred 
Stanley  was  a  misunderstood  man. 

After  distancing  the  watchman,  Stanley 
ascended  the  hill  and  sat  for  a  couple  of 
hours  or  more  on  the  "Peak"  looking  down 
at  the  sleeping  town.  He  could  see  just  be- 
low him  the  locust  grove  where  one  evening 
at  sunset  he  had  told  Blanche  Osmond  of  his 
love  and  was  accepted.  He  could  easily  lo- 
cate the  house  where  she  was  now  staying 
and  possibly  sleeping,  and  all  ignorant  of 
his  knowledge  of  her  perfidy,  and  that  agony 
into  which  she  had  plunged  him. 

He  could  safely  groan  aloud  where  he  was, 
high  up  on  the  hill  above  the  town.  And 
groan  he  did  while  his  burning  eyes  were  dry 
as  stone,  and  his  heart  felt  like  a  great  ach- 
ing throbbing  wound. 

He  heard  a  clock  striking  in  some  house  on 


184  A   MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN. 

the  hill  far  beneath  him.  He  counted  three. 
He  had  been  on  the  Peak  nearly  two  hours. 

Glancing  to  the  right  he  saw  the  town 
cemetery  a  half  mile  or  more  away,  in  a  kind 
of  Sleepy  Hollow  valley.  His  father  and 
mother  lay  buried  there.  There  were  no  liv- 
ing people  to  whom  he  could  go  with  his 
grief,  and  a  great  longing  came  over  him  to 
be  near  those  dear  dead  loved  ones. 

Crossing  the  hills  he  passed  over  the 
branch  near  the  graveyard,  and  climbing 
the  stile,  walked  down  the  gravelled  road 
with  monuments  and  vaults  on  either  side, 
and  came  in  the  starlight  to  his  family  burial 
lot.  Closing  the  little  gate  behind  him,  he 
stood  a  moment  in  the  dim  light  at  the  foot 
of  the  graves  of  his  parents,  and  then  with 
a  bitter  cry  of  "Father!  Mother!"  he  fell 
groaning  between  the  two  mounds. 

In  the  presence  of  his  dead,  years  had 
swept  away,  and  he  had  become  a  child  again. 
How  often  their  arms  had  been  reached  out 
and  thrown  around  him  in  the  trials  and  sor- 
rows of  childhood  and  boyhood;  and  here 
he  found  himself  instinctively  craving  and 
seeking  their  help  and  comfort  once  more. 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN.  186 

He  put  his  face  in  the  grass  that  covered  his 
mother's  form  and  flung  his  arm  over  the 
grave  of  his  father,  as  if  he  would  embrace 
the  one  who  had  been  the  strong  earthly 
friend  and  protector  of  his  life.  He  tried  to 
pray,  but  could  not.  He  cried  out  "Christ! 
Christ!  Christ!"  and  once  sobbed  out  "Have 
mercy." 

Perhaps  he  was  praying  better  than  he 
thought ;  and  was  answered  more  than  he  at 
first  dreamed  was  possible.  Anyhow  as  the 
hours  rolled  over  the  prostrate  form  be- 
tween the  two  graves,  a  part  of  the  unendur- 
able agony  of  mind  was  lifted,  the  suffocat- 
ing grasp  around  the  heart  loosened,  and  a 
sense  of  incoming  life  and  strength  stole  over 
the  exhausted  spirit.  The  feeling  of  bereave- 
ment was  left,  and  a  sadness  voiceless  and 
profound  brooded  upon  him,  but  there  had 
come  calmness  and  power  to  both  mind  and 
body.  There  was  an  inward  realization  of 
ability  to  rise  up  and  go  forward  with  a  life 
burden  and  sorrow,  and  make  no  sign,  give 
no  moan,  and  ask  for  no  sympathy  or  help 
from  the  gaping  curious  gossiping  crowd 
around. 


186  A   MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN. 

The  first  pencilings  of  the  dawn  now  ap- 
peared in  the  East.  A  mocking  bird  was  sing- 
ing from  a  large  magnolia  tree  in  a  distant 
part  of  the  cemetery,  and  the  breath  of  the 
Cape  Jasmine  was  faintly  perfuming  the  air. 

A  little  later,  and  the  sound  of  wagon 
wheels  on  the  high  road  and  the  whistle  of 
a  passing  driver  broke  on  the  stillness  of  the 
City  of  the  Dead,  and  Stanley  knew  that  th'e 
world  was  waking  up  for  another  days  toil 
and  battle. 

He  walked  out  of  the  grave  yard  deadly 
pale  from  the  nights  suffering  and  exhaus- 
tion. His  dress  was  in  disorder,  and  the 
stain  of  mud  and  clay  all  unconscious  to  him- 
self was  on  his  hat  and  coat. 

As  he  entered  the  main  road  on  his  return 
to  town,  he  was  overtaken  by  a  number  of 
milk,  meat  and  vegetable  wagons  going  at 
that  early  hour  to  the  market.  Their  oc- 
cupants looked  wonderingly  and  inquiringly 
at  him  as  they  rattled  past.  Two  butchers 
nudged  each  other  and  laughed. 

"Out  on  a  spree"  cried  one. 

"Drunk  again,"  laughed  the  other. 

Stanley  heard  the  remarks  and  guffaws  of 


A   MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN.  187 

the  men  as  they  drove  on  ahead  and  disap- 
peared in  the  distance  with  occasional  turn- 
ings of  head  and  pointings  of  whip  in  his  di- 
rection. Their  misjudgment  did  not  arouse 
any  resentment.  He  simply  said  to  himself 
with  a  sigh, 

"Drunk?  Yes  verily,  I  am  drunk:  but  it  is 
with  sorrow!" 

Twenty  minutes  afterwards  as  he  passed 
the  Market,  the  two  individuals  of  the  wag- 
on called  the  attention  of  several  of  their 
friends  to  him,  and  repeated  their  views  and 
conclusions.  And  so  the  misunderstanding 
concerning  the  man  went  steadily  on.  The 
human  judges  were  certain  they  had  "sized 
up  the  case"  as  they  called  it,  and  yet  had 
missed  the  truth  so  to  speak  by  millions  of 
miles,  even  as  other  character  critics  and  ex- 
ecutioners have  done  before,  and  will  do  so 
again  in  the  effort  to  comprehend^ajtjprpj-  s 
fnnndest  of  all  mysteries  a  suffering  human 
heart  and  life.^ 

III. 

Blanche  Osmond    came    down    to  a  late 
breakfast  the  next  morning,  and  was  dawd- 


188  A   MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN. 

ling  over  a  cup  of  tea  and  piece  of  toast, 
when  at  nine  o'clock  the  door  bell  rang. 

As  the  other  ladies  of  the  house  were  in 
their  rooms,  and  the  servant  seemed  to  be 
absent,  Blanche  answered  the  summons,  and 
found  a  colored  boy  bearing  a  letter  which 
was  addressed  to  herself. 

"Who  sent  it,"  she  asked. 

"Mr.  Stanley  sont  it  Ma'am,"  was  the  re- 
ply. 

"Mr.  Stanley!  Is  he  in  town,"  exclaimed 
the  surprised  woman  glancing  quickly  at  the 
envelope  and  recognizing  her  fiance's  hand- 
writing. 

"He  was  hyer,  but  he  done  gone  now.  I 
seed  him  git  in  a  buggy,  an'  he  moh'n  haf 
way  to  Benton  by  now." 

"What  was  he  going  to  Benton  for?"  quer- 
ed  Blanche  now  full  of  curiosity. 

"He  aint  gwine  to  Benton.  I  hyerd  him 
tell  a  gemmun  he  gwine  to  Canton  tonight, 
an'  fum  dah  he  gwine  right  on  to  Noo  Or- 
leans. An'  he  gin  me  ur  haf  dollar  to  fotch 
dis  letter  rounst  to  you." 

Dismissing  the  boy,  Blanche  Osmond 
went  with  an  anxious  look  to  her  room,  and 


A   MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN.  189 

locking  the  door,  and  taking  her  seat,  open- 
ed the  letter,  and  read  the  following  lines. 
The  agonized  man  had  written  four  or  five 
notes  full  of  upbraiding  and  censure,  but 
tore  them  up  one  after  another,  and  finally 
composed  and  dispatched  the  last. 

Yazoo  City,  May  4,  18 

Miss  Osmond : — I  was  both  a  spectator  and 
auditor  of  the  scene  and  conversation  which 
took  place  last  night  at  one  o'clock  between 
yourself  and  Mr.  Varley. 

I  spare  you  the  upbraiding  that  naturally 
leaps  to  the  lips  in  view  of  your  treatment  to 
a  man  who  loved  you  with  his  whole  heart. 

It  is  well  for  us  both  that  I  discovered  your 
character  and  the  true  state  of  your  heart  be- 
fore marriage.  Of  course  our  engagement  is 
at  an  end.  My  lips  shall  be  sealed  to  all  as 
to  the  cause  of  the  rupture,  as  I  do  not  wish 
to  injure  you  in  the  eyes  of  the  community. 
You  are  at  liberty  to  make  any  explanation 
of  the  separation  that  you  desire.  I  will  pro- 
mise not  to  contradict  your  statement. 

F.  Stanley. 

For  a  moment  the  woman  came  near  fal- 
ling. Then  collecting  herself  she  read  and 


190  A   MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN. 

re-read  the  cold  formal  lines  that  went  like 
daggers  into  her  heart. 

When  she  came  down  to  luncheon,  several 
hours  later,  she  ate  nothing,  and  looked  so 
deadly  pale  that  all  inquired  if  she  was  ill. 

In  a  few  days  the  report  was  in  circulation 
that  Fred  Stanley  had  been  drunk  on  the 
street  after  midnight.  This  was  followed  by 
another  rumor,  that  because  of  his  disgrace- 
ful conduct,  Blanche  Osmond  had  broken  the 
engagement.  Then  quickly  on  the  heels  of 
the  second  came  the  third  installment  of  gos- 
sip, that  Stanley  in  inconsolable  sorrow  had 
gone  off  on  a  spree  to  New  Orleans. 

There  were  some  who  stated  that  they 
saw  him  intoxicated  at  night  and  in  the  early 
morning;  and  others  had  seen  him  driving 
up  the  plank  road  toward  Benton  looking 
pale  and  miserable.  So  here  was  the  proof. 

These  reports  were  brought  to  Blanche 
Osmond  by  acquaintances  and  friends,  and 
in  reply  she  smiled  coldly  and  said  that  Mr. 
Stanley  was  nothing  to  her.  This  of  course 
was  a  plain  confirmation  to  the  public  of  all 
that  had  been  rumored  in  the  case. 

Another  whisper  started  that  Stanley  had 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN.  191 

jilted  the  young  lady.  No  one  could  trace 
this  to  its  source,  but  it  began  somehow,  and 
ran  its  course  like  other  bits  of  town  talk. 
It  was  believed  by  a  number,  and  reflected 
on  Stanley  more  than  the  other  adverse  state- 
ments about  him;  for  the  male  flirt  is  a  char- 


acter whom  the  true  Southerner  finds  it  im- 
possible to  tolerate. 

At  the  dining  table  of  one  of  the  leading 
families  in  town,  this  last  report  was  brought 
up.  One  of  the  daughters  was  begging  that 
Fred  Stanley  be  included  among  those  in- 
vited to  a  reception  to  be  given  a  niece  of 
the  family,  who  was  to  pay  them  a  visit.  The 
father  from  the  foot  of  the  table  said, 

"Let  it  not  be  mentioned  again.  A  man 
who  is  seen  drunk  on  our  streets  at  night, 
and  flirts  with  as  fine  a  girl  as  Blanche  Os- 
mond is  not  the  man  I  wish  to  have  near  a 
daughter  or  niece  of  mine;  I  don't  care  if  he 
has  got  money." 

"But,"  replied  the  daughter,  "the  report 
is  that  Blanche  gave  him  the  mitten.  He 
did  not  jilt  her." 

"It  doesn't  matter,"  rejoined  the  indignant 
father.  "If  she  threw  him  off,  he  deserved 


192  A  MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN. 

it  for  his  misconduct  on  the  streets.  The 
Watchman  says  he  acted  like  a  crazy  man, 
and  was  on  the  verge  of  mania  potu.  And 
they  say  at  the  Market,  that  several  there 
saw  him  close  to  Willis  hill  at  daybreak,  and 
that  he  looked  like,  he  had  slept  in  the  gullies 
all  night.  Blanche  Osmond  is  to  be  congrat- 
ulated upon  her  happy  escape." 

Thus  the  two  reports  went  on ;  and  as  both 
of  them  were  damaging  to  the  already  pro- 
foundly wronged  man ;  so  the  misunderstand- 
ing of  his  character  and  the  actual  history 
of  the  case,  increased  as  time  and  talk  prog- 
ressed. 

Both  pieces  of  gossip  travelled  up  to  Clear 
Lake  and  went  the  rounds  in  a  weeks  time 
among  the  neighbors.  Most  of  the  families  of 
Stanley's  circle  were  inclined  to  believe  the 
first  story,  that  he  had  been  discarded  by  his 
lady  love,  and  that  he  had  gone  to  New 
Orleans  to  rally  from  his  grief  and  mortifi- 
cation before  returning  home. 

Sandy  and  Millie  with  the  rest  of  the  old 
family  negros  believed  that  "Mars  Fred  hed 
flung  dat  town  gal  sky  high,"  and  were  cor- 
respondingly proud  of  him  for  having  done 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN.  193 

so.  They  fairly  hooted  at  the  idea  of  any 
woman  not  being  willing  and  anxious  to  get 
their  young  master  for  a  husband.  Millie 
with  her  arms  akimbo  before  her  wash  tub 
declared  to  a  circle  of  admiring  listeners; 

"Shoo!  Whut  you  talkin'  about.  Sho's 
you  bawn  Queen  Victoria  would  be  proud  fur 
one  ur  her  darters  ter  mah'y  Mars  F'ed. 
She'd  sho  jump  at  de  chance.  Dat  she  would. 
You  hyer  me  talkin'  don't  you." 

Nearly  two  weeks  after  Stanley's  depart- 
ure from  his  place,  one  of  the  boats  threw  off 
a  letter  from  him  addressed  to  Bentley  the 
Warehouseman  at  the  Landing.  It  con- 
tained a  request  that  he  would  get  word  to 
Sandy  to  meet  him  at  the  Landing  with  his 
horse  on  the  next  trip  of  the  steamer. 

Bentley  concluded  to  deliver  the  message 
in  person,  and  so  found  himself  in  due  time 
at  the  big  front  gate  of  Buena  Vista.  The 
customary  "Hello"  given  in  a  stentorian 
voice  brought  out  a  pack  of  hounds  from  the 
quarters,  Stanley's  large  Newfoundland  on 
the  gallery,  and  Millie  from  her  cabin  wiping 
her  hands  on  her  apron  as  she  approached. 

"I  came  up  to  deliver  a  message  to  Sandy 
from  Mr.  Stanley.  Where  is  he?" 


194  A   MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN. 

"Whurs  Mars  Fed?  He's  in  Noo  Or- 
leans." 

"No  I  mean  Sandy:  where  is  he?" 

"W'y  aint  you  hyerd  nuthin  tall  bout 
Sandy?  He's  bin  in  baid  gwine  on  mos'  two 
weeks." 

"Why  no;  whats  the  matter  with  him?" 
asked  Bentley. 

"Law  bless  yoh  soul  honey,  he  done  mos' 
bus'  his  haid  open  er  dressin'  back.  He  done 
hut  hissef  pow'ful  bad." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  dressing  back?" 
queried  Bentley,  who  being  a  new  comer  in 
the  Swamp,  was  a  stranger  to  many  terms 
and  expressions  used  by  both  white  and 
black. 

"Well  I  'clare  ter  gracious,"  returned  Mil- 
lie, "I  thought  ev'ybody  know'd  whut  dressin 
back  wuz.  You  know  de  night  Mars  F'ed 
done  gonter  Azoo  City?  Well  he  tuk  Sandy 
to  de  Landin'  wid  him  to  fetch  back  his  hoss. 
Arter  Mars  F'ed  tuk  de  boat,  Sandy  he  tun 
off  to  Major  Burtons,  to  ur  dancin'  frolic  some 
ur  dem  worl'y  sinful  niggers  gin  dat  vah'y 
night.  Now  you  know  Sandy  kain  keep  furr 
no  place  whur  a  banjer  ur  fiddle  is  a  gwine 


A   MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN.  195 

on;  Sandy  aint  'ligious  lak  me — Drat  dat 
cat!" 

Here  Millie  gave  a  cat,  that  in  playing 
around  her  had  stuck  a  claw  in  her  foot,  a 
kick  that  sent  it  flying  about  ten  feet. 

"Naw  Suh,"  the  woman  placidly  resumed, 
"Sandy  nuvver  got  'ligion  lak  me.  He's  sho' 
gwine  to  de  Devil  wid  his  banjer  an'  riddle, 
always  a  pickin'  an'  a  sawin'  on  'em,  w'en  he 
orter  be  on  his  knees  an'  er  sarvin'  de  Lawd 
— Law's  a  Mussy!  did  you  nuvver  see  seen 
ur  oudacious  varmint  as  dis  cat !"  And  stoop- 
ing down  she  picked  up  the  reoffending  ani- 
mal and  taking  it  by  the  tail  flung  it  over  the 
fence.  The  cat  of  course  landed  on  its  four 
feet  according  to  the  feline  custom,  and  then 
vanished  down  the  path  towards  the  negro 
cabins  with  its  caudal  appendage  hoisted  in 
the  air  like  a  sail. 

Millie  looked  a  moment  after  the  domestic 
pet  as  it  scuttled  away,  burst  into  a  rich  Af- 
rican laugh  at  the  spectacle,  and  resumed; 

"Well  as  I  was  gwine  on  to  tell  you;  all 
de  dancers  was  in  de  middle  ur  de  floh,  an* 
Sandy's  part  was  to  do  de  double  shuffle  ur 
gwine  backuds  all  de  time  as  he  done  it.  And 


196  A  MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN. 

he  to  Astonish  dem  niggers  wid  some  extry 
Jim  Crow  shines  an'  Buzzard  hops,  nuvver 
seed  de  back  doh  wide  open ;  w'en  all  ur  sud- 
dint  outen  he  went  backard  an*  lit  on  his 
haid  an'  jes'  about  brek  his  skull  on  de 
groun'." 

"Well  I  never  thought  anything  could 
break  Sandy's  skull"  laughed  Bentley. 

"You's  sho  right  'bouten  dat,"  broke  in 
the  woman  with  animation.  "I  tole  him  dat 
vah'y  thing  mohn*  a  thousan'  times,  dat  he 
was  too  hardheaded  fur  anythin'.  Naw  Suh ! 
Sandy's  skull  all  soun',  but  de  fall  done  twis' 
his  naik,  an'  he  bin  mighty  po'ly  endurin  all 
dese  pas'  two  weeks.  I  jes  lef  him  in  baid 
when  I  come  to  see  who  dat  hollerin'  'hello'." 

Hitching  his  horse,  Bentley  followed  the 
voluble  woman  toward  her  distant  cabin. 
Several  peach  trees  stood  about  it,  and  it 
was  further  ornamented  in  front  with  some 
stately  sunflowers,  and  a  gourd  vine  swing- 
ing from  the  roof.  A  half  dozen  bee  hives 
were  half  hidden  behind  white  blossoming, 
althea  bushes,  and  two  or  three  chicken 
coops  rested  on  the  ground.  Several  mother- 
ly hens  were  clucking  around  at  the  head  of 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN.  197 

their  yellow  feathered  broods,  that  were 
chirping  responsively  in  'the  golden  sun- 
shine. 

"Yes,"  continued  Millie  picking  her  way 
through  the  little  saffron  beauties,  "Sandy's 
bin  in  baid  mosen  two  weeks  wid  his  banjer 
lay'n  long  side  ur  him." 

As  she  said  this  while  the  two  drew  near- 
er the  cabin  door,  they  suddenly  heard  the 
notes  of  the  banjo,  the  regular  tap  and  beat 
of  a  foot  on  the  floor,  and  Sandy's  voice 
sounding  remarkably  strong  for  that  of  a 
sick  man. 

Millie  at  a  sign  from  Bentley  stopped  amid 
the  clucking  fowls,  flitting  bees  and  fragrant 
blossoms  of  the  yard,  and  both  stood  listen- 
ing to  the  recovered  invalid,  who  all  uncon- 
scious of  an  audience  was  singing  one  of  his 
favorite  melodies. 

"De  Possum  air  a  funny  thing, 

He  ramble  in  de  dark, 
But  doan  he  cut  de  pigeon  wing, 

When  he  hyer  my  bull  dog  bark." 

Then  followed  a  banjo  refrain  accompan- 


198  A  MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN. 

led  with  a  patting  of  the  foot  on  the  floor. 
Phonetically  it  was 

Tink  er  lunk,  tink  er  lunk, 
Tink  er  lunk,  tink  er  lunk, 
Tink  er  lunk,  tink  er  lunk, 
Tink  er  lunk,  dunk,  day! 

Then  came  a  voice  refrain 

"Farewell,  farewell,  farewell 
My  own  true  love." 

The  foot  beat  grew  louder  and  the  voice 
stronger  as  the  song  proceeded. 

"De  squirrel  am  a  curus  thing, 

It  totes  a  bushy  tail, 
It  steals  de  corn  fum  my  Daddy's  barn, 
An'  husks  it  on  de  rail. 
Tink  a  lunk,  etc., 
Farewell,  etc." 

Sandy  was  now  well  warmed  up  to  his 
work  and  it  was  a  lively  contest  with  foot 
and  banjo,  while  his  voice  floating  like  a 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN.  199 

triumphant  banner  over  all,  came  to  the  third 
verse. 

"Ef  I  had  a  scoldin'  wife, 

I'd  whip  her  sho's  she  born, 
I'd  take  her  down  to  Noo  Orleans, 
An'  trade  her  off  fur  corn." 
Tink  a  lunk,  etc. 
Farewell,  etc. 

Sandy  was  in  the  midst  of  his  "Farewell, 
farewell,  farewell,  my  own  true  love"  when 
Millie  with  Bentley  at  her  heels  walked  sud- 
denly into  the  humble  one-roomed  cabin. 

It  had  a  cavernous  fire  place  with  a  pot 
swung  just  over  a  smoldering  fire.  A  cheap 
clock  ticked  on  the  mantel  flanked  with  two 
gaudy  Plaster  of  Paris  images.  A  big  pump- 
kin was  in  one  corner.  A  setting  hen  on  a 
nest  of  eggs  under  the  bed,  peeped  out  at  the 
visitors.  One  of  the  rafters  was  garnished 
with  half  a  dozen  strings  of  red  peppers,  and 
as  many  garlands  of  onions.  A  bunch  of  yel- 
low gourds  hung  on  a  nail  high  up  on  the 
wall.  Two  or  three  hide  bottomed  chairs 
and  a  crack  glassed  bureau  with  some  wood- 


200  A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN. 

en  chests  constituted  the  furniture;  while 
a  gay  looking  quilt  on  the  bed  disputed  with 
two  red  and  blue  prints  on  the  wall  for  wealth 
of  color  in  the  apartment. 

Sandy  with  his  neck  enswathed  in  a  huge 
white  bandage,  and  with  his  banjo  now  fal- 
len in  his  lap,  sat  in  a  chair  gazing  in  a  rather 
dumbfounded  way  at  the  visitors. 

"Well  I  mus'  say,"  cried  Millie,  "You'se 
done  got  well  pow'ful  suddent.  Jes  now  you 
hed  sech  mizry  in  yoh  haid,  tell  you  kain  git 
outen  de  baid  to  mek  up  de  fire  fur  dinner; 
an'  now  you'se  gwine  down  to  Noo  Orleans 
wid  ur  scoldin'  wife.  I'd  lak  ter  know  who's 
dat  own  true  love  you  kain  take  wid  you 
when  you  go?" 

Bentley  gave  a  ringing  laugh,  while  Sandy 
for  a  few  moments  looked  decidedly  cheap 
and  foolish.  But  Millie  came  to  his  relief 
with  the  words: 

"Hyers  Mr.  Bentley  Sandy,  whuts  come 
wid  ur  messige  fum  Mars  F'ed  dat  he's  corn- 
in'  home  on  de  boat  dis  nex'  Chuseday." 

"I  sho'  glad  to  hyer  dat,"  said  the  negro 
with  a  look  of  genuine  pleasure  on  his  face. 
Sandy,"  smiled  Bentley,  "I  heard 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN.  201 

you  had  a  crick  in  your  neck  and  was  laid  up 
in  bed  from  it."  , 

"Twas  wussen  ur  creek  Suh,  twas  ekal  ter 
a  whole  river,  an'  I  kain  git  'cross  fur  a  week 
an'  moh." 

"I'm  glad  to  see  you  are  better  at  last,"  re- 
turned the  visitor  with  an  amused  look  at 
the  big  bandage  and  the  banjo. 

"Yes  Suh,"  replied  Sandy  refusing  to  part 
with  his  gravity  and  his  invalid  look  alto- 
gether; "Yes  Suh,  I'm  feelin'  quite  peert  dis 
mawnin." 

Bentley  then  gave  Stanley's  message  about 
meeting  him  at  the  Landing  with  his  horse, 
and  turning  to  leave  said; 

"I'm  glad  you  have  such  a  good  faithful 
wife  Sandy:  you  ought  to  be  thankful  that 
you  have  such  a  woman  to  look  after  you  and 
keep  you  straight."  This  last  remark  with  a 
twinkle  in  his  eye. 

"Dats  jes'  whut  I  tell  him  ev'y  day,"  broke 
in  Millie.  "But  Sandy  doan  lissun  to  me, 
he's  dat  hard  haided.  Naw  Suh  he  nuvver 
brek  his  skull.  Hits  nachuelly  too  hard  to 
brek." 

These  domestic  compliments  Sandy  receiv^ 


202  A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN. 

ed  with  an  unmoved  countenance,  either  be- 
cause he  had  learned  the  philosophy  of  en- 
durance, or  knew  that  his  wife's  bark  was 
worse  then  her  bite. 

In  fact  Bentley  with  his  quick  eye  saw  in 
the  few  minutes  of  his  visit,  that  Millie  was 
really  fond  of  her  husband,  in  spite  of  the 
tongue  dressings  she  gave  him.  And  though 
indulging  in  frequent  verbal  slams  at  his 
banjo  playing,  she  was  secretly  proud  of  his 
accomplishment  in  that  line. 

Three  evenings  afterward  Stanley  arrived 
on  the  Tuesday  packet,  and  was  met  by  San- 
dy, now  fully  recovered,  with  the  horses. 

The  negro  was  greatly  pained  at  the 
changed  appearance  of  his  master.  There 
were  lines  of  deep  settled  melancholy  on  the 
face  that  a  child  could  not  but  observe.  Still 
Sandy  thought  in  the  brief  conversation 
which  ensued  in  their  ride  through  the 
woods  to  Clear  Lake,  that  he  had  never 
heard  a  gentler  kinder  accent  in  Stanley's 
voice  than  there  was  now. 

Millie's  eyes  filled  the  instant  she  saw  him, 
and  with  a  woman's  quick  instinct,  better  un- 
derstood the  new  spirit  which  had  come  up- 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN.  203 

on  the  owner  of  Buena  Vista.  She  urged  a 
number  of  things  upon  him  at  the  table  as 
she  waited  on  him  that  night. 

"Mars  F'ed  lenime  brile  you  ur  nice  spring 
chicken.  Naw  you  doan  want  it.  tWell  have 
some  ur  dese  fried  pyerch  jes'  caught  dis 
vah'y  evenin'  outen  de  lake." 

The  silent  man  quietly  refused,  and  with 
a  patient  smile  which  brought  the  tears  to 
Millie's  eyes  again,  left  the  table  without 
touching  scarcely  a  thing. 

The  gossip  raged  afresh  about  Clear  Lake 
after  Stanleys  return,  for  the  man's  face  con- 
sidered stern  by  some,  and  sorrowful  by 
others,  gave  a  new  spring  and  inspiration  to 
the  talk. 

Through  the  garrulous  negroes,  Stanley 
was  soon  in  possession  of  all  that  was  said 
about  him,  both  on  the  Lake  and  in  Yazoo 
City.  He  made  no  reply  in  denial  or  self  de- 
fense, but  the  lines  grew  more  marked  on 
his  countenance,  and  his  eyes  with  their  hurt 
expression  gathered  a  deeper  shadow. 

He  made  the  carpenters  finish  the  work 
about  the  house,  and  heard  through  his  ser- 
vants that  this  step  had  been  termed  by  his 


204  A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN. 

neighbors  a  "bluff,"  "pride"  and  "a  stiff  up- 
per lip."  He  went  on  without  a  word,  and 
in  a  month's  time  had  an  excellent  young 
farmer  named  Corwin  to  move  down  from 
the  hills  with  his  bride  and  take  possession 
of  the  new  rooms,  and  become  the  manager 
of  his  plantation. 

A  week  after  this  the  neighborhood  ton- 
gues were  set  going  again  with  the  tidings 
that  Stanley  had  gone  to  Chicago  to  live,  and 
had  entered  there  upon  the  Real  Estate  busi- 
ness. 

Months  rolled  by  and  one  day  the  papers 
spoke  of  a  great  fire  which  had  raged  in  Chi- 
cago, and  how  Stanley  had  distinguished 
himself  by  heroism  of  conduct,  as  well  as 
coolness  in  the  face  of  frightful  danger. 
Where  even  firemen  had  stood  appalled,  he 
had  gathered  a  small  band  of  men,  and  in 
spite  of  falling  walls  and  enveloping  sheets 
of  flame  had  burst  his  way  through  closed 
doors  and  windows  and  saved  a  number  of 
lives. 

This  report  of  the  bravery  of  the  far  away 
man  had  a  double  effect  at  Clear  Lake.  Some 
felt  that  he  had  been  misjudged  and  became 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN.  205 

softened  in  their  feelings  toward  him.  Oth- 
ers declared  that  the  whole  affair  was  a  fine 
piece  of  acting,  and  that  Stanley  was  trying 
to  redeem  the  bad  record  he  had  made  in 
Yazoo  City. 

Meantime  at  Buena  Vista,  Sandy  took  care 
of  his  absent  master's  horses  and  dogs,  pick- 
ed his  banjo,  and  told  ever  increasingly  mar- 
vellous stories  of  what  he  and  Mars  Fred 
had  seen  and  done  in  the  War,  and  what  they 
had  achieved  in  various  camp  hunts  in  the 
Swamp. 

Millie  kept  the  key  to  Stanley's  room, 
guarding  the  apartment  faithfully  as  he  had 
left  it.  She  gravely  declared  to  listening 
whites  and  blacks  alike,  that: 

"Mars  F'ed  done  made  so  much  money  in 
Chicago  dat  he  dunno  whut  to  do  wid  it  all." 

It  required  but  little  effort  of  her  nimble 
tongue  and  rich  imagination  to  add: 

"Mars  F'ed  done  bought  ur  house  fourteen 
stories  high;  rides  outen  ev'y  ev'nin'  in  ur 
four  hoss  team,  an'  got  a  haf  dozen  ladies 
plum  'stracted  bouten  him." 

With  some,  these  highly  colored  stories 
of  Millie  had  no  effect  save  to  awaken  a 


206  A  MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN. 

smile;  but  there  were  others  who  believed 
all  they  heard  and  even  more;  and  felt  it  was 
but  corroborative  evidence  of  the  character 
of  a  libertine  and  the  life  of  a  heartless  soul- 
less man  of  the  world. 

IV, 

Nearly  a  year  and  a  half  had  passed  since 
Stanley  had  left  Clear  Lake  for  Chicago. 
Called  by  business  to  Vicksburg,  Baton 
Rouge  and  New  Orleans,  he  found  himself 
one  afternoon  in  October  in  the  office  of  a 
hotel  at  the  first  named  place.  Awaiting  a 
hack  to  carry  him  down  to  the  wharf  where 
he  would  take  a  steamer  bound  for  the  Cres- 
cent City,  he  carelessly  glanced  his  eye  over 
the  file  of  newspapers  on  the  desk,  and  saw 
one  a  week  old  from  Yazoo  City.  As  he  was 
skimming  the  local  columns  he  read  the  fol- 
lowing. 

"Miss  Blanche  Osmond  who  has  been 
spending  a  month  with  her  friends  in  this 
city,  will  leave  us  next  week  by  river  for  her 
home  in  Louisiana.  Report  says  that  Miss 
Osmond  is  to  be  married  in  the  near  future 
to  a  wealthy  merchant  of  New  Orleans.  This 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN.  207 

gentlemen  is  certainly  to  be  congratulated 
in  having  won  so  beautiful  and  accomplished 
a  woman.  He  may  well  be  proud  of  his 
prize." 

In  a  few  minutes  more  Stanley  was  in  the 
hack,  and  soon  on  the  boat  which  lay  like  a 
vast  smoking  leviathan  in  the  midst  of  a 
long  line  of  steamers  at  the  wharf. 

Two  large  river  packets  were  to  leave  near- 
ly at  the  same  time  for  New  Orleans,  both 
loaded  heavily  with  cotton  and  crowded  with 
passengers. 

A  cannon  was  fired,  and  the  steamboat 
Stanley  was  on  slowly  backed  out  and  turned 
majestically  in  the  stream  with  ,her  fooW 
pointed  towards  the  South. 

A  crew  of  fifty  negro  deck  hands  stood  in 
a  cluster  about  a  leader  who  was  elevated 
several  feet  above  them.  One  arm  was 
around  the  jackstaff  and  the  other  waved  a 
ragged  hat  in  the  air  as  he  burst  forth  in  one 
of  the  wild  weird  river  songs  or  chants  for 
which  the  old  South  was  famous.  First  came 
the  voice  of  the  leader. 

"Oh  give  my  love  to  Juley." 

Then  with  a  storm-like  rush  came  the  fifty 


208  A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN. 

tongued  chorus  in  a  strain  that  would  defy 
all  description,  but  which  sent  the  blood 
tingling  and  shivering  through  every  vein, 
and  the  quick  gushing  tears  to  the  eyes. 

The  Refrain 

"Ah-h-h-h-h-h-h!" 

Here  a  single  short  line  was  doing  what 
long  speeches  and  voluminous  books  have 
often  failed  to  accomplish.  And  a  little  word 
"Ah,"  treated  by  fifty  negro  men  to  minor 
notes,  musical  slurs,  vocal  swellings  and  dy- 
ings away,  together  with  strangely  pathetic 
lip,  tongue  and  throat  tremblings  had  hush- 
ed, melted  or  thrilled  every  passenger  on  the 
boat.  The  song  had  set  the  heart  of  every- 
body longing  for  something  or  somebody  in 
a  homesick  disconsolate  way  that  no  pen  or 
tongue  could  ever  properly  describe. 

Again  the  leader  sang  or  rather  chanted: 

"Oh  tell  her  that  I  love  her!" 
Then  the  refrain ; 
"Ah-h-h-h-h-h-h!" 

Stanley  sat  in  his  old  favorite  place  on  the 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN.  20y 

hurricane  deck,  drinking  in  the  melody  from 
the  ragged  black  faced  singers,'  and  listening 
to  it  die  away  on  the  distant  shore,  while 
wrapped  in  melancholy  thoughts  of  the  past. 

Meantime  the  great  floating  palace  with 
heavy  puff  of  scape  pipe  and  ponderous 
beat  of  its  mighty  wheels,  had  left  Vicksburg 
glimmering  in  the  sunset  far  behind,  and  was 
sweeping  with  majestic  course  down  the 
broad  mile  wide  channel  of  the  Mississippi. 

The  numerous  passengers  were  scattered 
over  the  boat  in  every  direction,  but  Stanley 
according  to  his  custom  of  late  held  himself 
aloof  from  all.  A  number  of  feminine  eyes 
were  turned  upon  him  that  evening  with 
genuine  interest;  but  none  of  their  owners 
detected  any  returning  glance  of  curiosity  or 
admiration.  To  some  he  appeared  a  deeply 
absorbed  man,  and  to  others  a  person  of  re- 
markable reserve.  No  one  in  looking  a  sec- 
ond time  would  have  attributed  shyness  and 
timidity  to  him.  The  fine  cultured  face  as 
well  as  carriage  of  the  body,  showed  a  man 
perfectly  at  ease  and  accustomed  to  the  best 
in  what  is  known  as  the  social  world.  He 
was  a  sorrow  smitten  man  and  shrank  from 


210  A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN. 

a  life  that  in  its  conversation,  customs  and 
amusements  would  bring  back  the  past. 

He  had  nothing  of  the  hermit  spirit  in  him, 
for  as  it  afterward  appeared  he  had  mapped 
out  a  course  of  conduct  for  himself  in  which 
considerateness  and  material  help  for  others 
prominently  figured.  He  was  honestly  do- 
ing his  best  to  rally  from  a  spirit  of  hopeless- 
ness into  which  he  had  been  plunged  by  no 
act  of  his  own.  But  do  as  he  would,  the  old 
spring  time  in  his  heart  refused  to  return, 
and  the  glad  light  of  other  days  seemed  to 
have  gone  from  his  eyes  forever. 

A  something  had  left  his  life  and  disap- 
peared from  the  earth  itself.  His  heart  had  a 
sore  feeling,  and  there  pressed  upon  him  al- 
most continually  a  sense  of  personal  loss  and 
bereavement.  The  experience  was  akin  to 
that  of  a  man  who  has  just  left  an  idolized 
form  buried  in  the  cemetery  and  sits  down, 
with  face  buried  in  his  hands,  on  the  door- 
step of  a  desolated  home. 

Instead  of  an  empty  house  however,  the 
whole  world  looked  stripped  and  lonely  to 
Stanley.  The  woman  he  loved  had  not  gone 
into  the  grave,  but  she  had  gone  away  from 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN.  211 

him;  and  the  sepulchre  was  not  in  the  ceme- 
tery, but  in  his  heart;  and  the  death  which 
had  visited  him  could  have  no  resurrection. 

A  woman's  white  hand  had  struck  from 
his  lips  the  cup  of  a  sweet  life  joy  that  every 
man  has  a  right  to  quaff.  And  the  goblet 
was  broken  and  the  wine  wasted  in  the  dust. 
She  had  made  existence  itself  to  him  aimless, 
purposeless  and  not  worth  the  possession. 
And  yet  how  he  loved  her !  She  did  not,  and 
never  had  cared  for  him,  but  Oh  how  he 
loved  her!  He  told  himself  many  times  a 
day  that  she  was  unworthy  of  his  affection 
and  even  respect,  but  his  heart  cried  out  for 
what  he  once  thought  she  was,  and  would 
not  be  comforted. 

As  the  negro  melody  had  swelled  forth 
that  evening  and  died  away  in  plaintive 
pleading  echoes  on  the  river  shore,  every 
chord  of  his  nature  responded  to  the  line, 

"Oh  tell  her  that  I  love  her!" 

While  an  anguish  swept  over  his  spirit 
that  left  him  faint,  sick  and  trembling  in  his 
chair.  He  felt  that  he  wanted  to  give  a  great 
wail  of  agony,  and  die  as  he  uttered  the  cry. 

Ashamed  of  his  weakness  as  he  mentally 


212  A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN. 

called  it,  the  suffering  man  summoned  up  all 
his  strength,  and  inwardly  said: 

"No!  Heaven  forbid  that  she  should  ever 
know  how  she  has  made  me  suffer.  Let  her 
live  and  die  thinking  my  love  perished  the 
night  I  beheld  her  weakness  and  perfidy." 

The  .boat  had  sped  fully  twenty  miles 
down  stream.  A  string  band  was  playing  in 
the  great  saloon  below,  and  the  main  body 
of  the  passengers  were  at  supper,  when  Stan- 
ley found  himself  almost  alone  on  the  upper 
deck. 

Glancing  up  at  the  pilot,  he  was  struck 
with  something  about  the  man's  face  and 
quiet  attitude  that  were  strangely  familiar. 
One  arm  was  resting  full  length  on  the 
wheel  and  the  eyes  of  the  helmsman  fixed 
steadily  ahead  in  a  way  that  reminded  him 
of  the  pilot  on  the  Yazoo  River  the  night  of 
his  great  trouble.  Speaking  to  the  Captain 
about  it,  he  was  informed  that  the  man  was 
the  same  individual.  That  he  was  a  Missis- 
sippi River  pilot,  and  had  gone  into  the  Ya- 
zoo work  for  a  brief  while,  and  recently  had 
returned  to  the  larger  field. 

As  Stanley  turned  to  descend  to  his  state- 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN.  218 

room  he  observed  the  other  steamer  a  quar- 
ter of  a  mile  astern,  and  from  the  volumes 
of  black  smoke  pouring  from  her  great  chim- 
neys, and  "the  bone  in  her  mouth"  he  saw 
she  was  coming  after  them  at  a  great  speed. 

Until  he  retired  at  midnight  Stanley  no- 
ticed that  the  boats  were  passing  and  repass- 
ing  each  other,  as  the  advantage  was  given 
first  to  the  one  and  then  the  other  by  the 
various  landings  that  had  to  be  made. 

On  the  second  night  out,  they  were  below 
Natchez.  The  white  and  blue  cranes  which 
had  been  flying  before  them  all  day  long  had 
disappeared.  Here  and  there  at  wide  inter- 
vals a  solitary  gleam  of  light  on  the  shore 
revealed  the  location  of  some  cabin,  or  man- 
sion home.  Points  of  mist  protruded  from 
the  banks  and  looked  like  spectral  fingers 
reaching  out  after  them.  The  boat  gliding 
swiftly  over  this  inland  sea  of  a  river  seemed 
to  be  floating  between  .two  firmaments,  one 
twinkling  above  in  the  blue,  and  the  other 
sparkling  beneath  in  the  yellow  flood  of  the 
Mississippi. 

By  and  by  the  moon  rose,  and  gave  a  new 
glory  to  the  monarch  of  rivers.  The  broad 


214  A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN. 

stream,  the  distant  shores,  the  two  steam- 
boats perforated  and  seamed  with  glittering 
lights,  with  the  soft  silvery  moonlight  flung 
over  all,  made  a  picture  of  such  beauty  that 
numbers  of  both  sexes  lingered  by  the  side 
guards,  and  on  the  upper  decks  until  a  late 
hour. 

At  eleven  o'clock  many  of  the  passengers 
had  retired.  Others  were  engaged  in  games 
of  cards.  A  few  were  dancing  in  the  Ladies 
Cabin,  and  several  couples  continued  to  sit 
on  deck  and  stroll  about  the  boat. 

Stanley,  an  old  traveller  on  the  river,  was 
conscious  from  the  violent  trembling  of  the 
steamer  that  they  were  making  great  head- 
way. Glancing  up  at  the  vast  masses  of 
black  smoke  pouring  out  of  the  funnels,  and 
marking  the  increased  stroke  of  the  wheels, 
he  felt  convinced  that  a  race  was  going  on 
between  the  two  rival  boats.  Looking  back 
he  saw  the  other  packet  a  few  hundred  yards 
behind  with  the  same  inky  pillars  of  smoke 
towering  on  high,  and  frequent  angry  glares 
of  red  light  flashing  from  the  furnace  doors, 
showing  they  were  receiving  extra  attention 
from  the  stokers  in  charge. 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN.  215 

Descending  to  the  lower  deck,  Stanley  ob- 
served that  not  only  great  amounts  of  fuel 
were  being  cast  into  the  roaring  furnaces  of 
the  steamer  he  was  on,  but  quantities  of  oil 
besides.. 

With  a  grave  thoughtful  face  he  went  up 
the  companion  way  and  passing  one  of  the 
officers  on  the  forward  deck  he  said  careless- 
ly: 

"Are  you  not  racing  with  the  other  boat?" 

"Well,"  replied  the  second  clerk  with  a 
laugh,  "we  are  not  exactly  racing,  but  at  the 
same  time  we  are  trying  to  keep  the  other 
boat  from  getting  ahead  of  us." 

"Why  be  in  such  a  hurry,"  continued  Stan- 
ley. "You  are  not  behind  your  schedule 
time." 

"Thats  true,"  answered  the  clerk,  "but  the 
boat  that  makes  the  next  landing  first,  will 
get  three  hundred  bales  of  cotton  to  carry 
to  the  City." 

"I  don't  see,"  rejoined  Stanley,  "how  you 
can  take  on  more  cotton  with  safety  to  the 
boat  and  passengers.  You  are  already  up 
even  with  the  hurricane  deck." 

"Why  shiver  my  timbers  Sir,"  laughed  the 


216  A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN. 

clerk,  "we  could  take  on  five  hundred  more 
bales  and  not  be  hurt."  So  saying  he  passed 
on  and  entered  the  office,  while  Stanley  with 
the  same  concerned  look  ascended  to  the 
top  deck. 

He  looked  up  at  the  pilot  house,  and  there 
stood  the  man  with  his  left  arm  lying  along 
the  wheel  and  his  face  set  fixedly  on  the 
stream  before  him  as  though  he  had  not 
changed  attitude,  look,  nor  boat  since  Stan- 
ley first  saw  him  eighteen  months  before  on 
the  Yazoo. 

Walking  down  the  side  of  the  vessel,  Stan- 
ley stood  near  one  of  the  wheel  houses  look- 
ing back  at  the  other  steamer  which  seemed 
to  be  gaining  on  them.  He  could  hear  echo- 
ing across  the  water  the  opening  and  shut- 
ting of  the  fire  doors,  the  rattle  of  iron  hand- 
spikes, the  curses  of  the  mate,  and  the  cries 
of  the  stokers  and  roustabouts  who  were  be- 
ing stirred  up  to  extra  efforts  and  labors  of 
some  kind. 

Ten  minutes  more  went  by,  and  Stanley 
could  see  their  own  steamer  had  recovered 
the  lost  distance,  and  that  this  fact  was  ob- 
served on  both  boats,  as  evidenced  by  great 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN.  217 

sc'arlet  glares  of  light  from  the  furnaces  and 
loud  swearing  from  one  vessel,  and  by  the 
shouts  of  victory  and  derision  from  the  pack- 
et he  was  on. 

He  turned  from  the  backward  view,  and 
was  looking  forward  with  the  intention  of 
taking  his  favorite  front  seat,  when  sudden- 
ly, there  burst  upon  his  ears  a  frightful  deaf- 
ening roar  and  crash,  that  sent  the  blood 
flying  back  on  his  heart,  while  his  eyes  were 
horror  stricken  as  he  beheld  the  whole  front 
of  the  boat  become  a  volcano,  the  great  stack 
chimneys  veer  suddenly  wide  apart,  looking 
like  a  huge  black  letter  V  against  the  crim- 
soned sky,  the  pilot  house  sinking  into  the 
horrible  vortex  below,  while  the  body  of  the 
pilot,  distinct  in  the  blended  moonlight  and 
blaze  of  the  burning  steamer  was  hurled  a 
hundred  feet  into  the  air,  and  came  down 
revolving  and  turning  over  and  over  as  it 
descended  amid  a  rain  of  cotton  bales,  cord- 
age, timbers,  and  general  wreck,  and  fell 
with  a  heavy  plunge,  a  corpse  in  the  muddy 
waves  of  the  Mississippi. 

Stanley  needed  no  one  to  tell  him  that  the 
boilers  of  the  boat  had  exploded,  and  that 


218  A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN. 

hundreds  of  lives  had  been  or  would  be  lost. 
Already  the  main  body  of  the  steamer  with 
its  vast  amount  of  weight  was  careening. 
The  screams  of  women  and  the  loud  calls  and 
shouts  of  men  resounded  through  the  vessel. 
A  number  came  rushing  up  the  side  stair- 
ways, when  with  an  awful  lurch  the  big  pa- 
latial craft  went  over,  and  human  bodies,  life 
boats,  bales  of  cotton  and  every  thing  else  on 
deck  went  pouring  down  like  a  dreadful  cas- 
cade into  the  river. 

Stanley  braced  himself  as  well  as  he  could 
when  he  saw  what  was  coming,  but  was  en- 
gulphed  wTith  the  rest.  Being  a  splendid 
swimmer  he  soon  came  to  the  surface,  and 
lifting  himself  up  to  see  who  he  could  save 
in  the  midst  of  the  foaming  water  and  dan- 
cing bits  of  the  wreck,  he  saw  a  lad  with 
terrified  face  going  down.  With  a  few  pow- 
erful strokes  of  his  arms  he  was  by  the  childs 
side  and  lifting  him  upon  a  large  door  said 
authoritatively  to  the  frightened  but  obe- 
dient boy,  "Stay  there  until  some  one  comes 
to  your  help  in  a  boat." 

His  next  rescue  was  that  of  a  man  who 
was  sinking  the  second  time,  but  fortunately 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN.  219 

was  not  far  from  him.  Catching  the  drown- 
ing man  by  his  collar,  he  lifted  his  head 
above  the  water,  and  literally  pushed  him 
with  herculean  efforts  to  a  cotton  bale,  and 
helped  him  on  this  floating  life  preserver. 

At  this  moment  he  turned  and  saw  the 
head  and  white  arm  of  a  woman  disappear- 
ing in  the  waves  hardly  ten  feet  away.  A 
few  vigorous  overhand  strokes  brought  him 
to  the  spot,  and  with  a  short  quick  dive  he 
caught  the  sinking  form.  He  lifted  her  above 
the  water  but  was  that  exhausted  from  his 
previous  exertions,  and  his  saturated  cloth- 
ing was  such  a  weight  to  him,  that  he  felt 
he  could  not  possibly  swim  with  the  rescued 
one  any  distance.  Her  very  clinging  to  him, 
also  jeopardized  both  their  lives.  He  saw 
as  he  looked  around  in  his  distress,  that  the 
other  steamer  had  arrived  on  the  scene,  and 
boats  rilled  with  strong  rowers  were  pulling 
rapidly  in  their  direction,  but  he  was  con- 
scious that  he  could  not  keep  up  until  they 
reached  him.  At  the  very  moment  however 
that  he  felt  he  must  go  down  with  his  burden, 
a  great  beam  of  wood  gliding  past,  struck 
him  with  a  jar  that  under  other  circum- 


220  A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN. 

stances  would  have  extorted  a  cry  of  pain. 
But  instead  he  gave  one  of  joy,  and  throw- 
ing his  right  arm  over  it,  and  with  his  left 
arm  about  the  woman  whose  head  rested 
helplessly  on  his  shoulder,  he  waited  for  the 
swiftly  moving  skiffs  and  yawls  that  wrere 
picking  up  people  as  they  found  them  cling- 
ing here  and  there  to  anything  that  would 
bouy  them  up  and  save  them  from  a  watery 
grave  in  the  tawny  Mississippi. 

In  a  brief  while  a  boat  reached  Stanley, 
and  powerful  hands  relieved  him  of  his  bur- 
den. The  main  impression  made  upon  him 
as  the  being  he  had  rescued  was  lifted  into 
the  yawl  was,  that  he  had  saved  a  woman 
with  a  wealth  of  raven  hair.  He  was  helped 
himself  into  the  boat  at  one  of  the  sides,  and 
took  his  seat  near  the  rear,  drenched,  chilled, 
exhausted  and  pale  as  death. 

Looking  forward  towards  the  woman  he 
had  preserved,  their  eyes  met.  There  was  a 
sudden  mutual  shock!  and  both  instantly 
averted  their  gaze.  He  had  saved  Blanche 
Osmond's  life,  the  woman  who  had  wrecked 
his  happiness! 

Her  glance  fell  at  the  first  recognition, 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN.  221 

but  repeatedly  afterwards  she  stole  quick 
troubled  looks  at  her  rescuer,  who  sat  like  a 
marble  statue  not  over  fifteen  feet  away. 
He  never  turned  his  eyes  again  in  her  direc- 
tion. 

An  hour  afterward,  the  steamboat  which 
had  come  to  their  help,  having  picked  up 
half  the  crew  and  passengers,  proceeded  on 
her  way  down  the  river.  One  hundred  and 
seventy  had  met  death. 

From  a  friend  whom  he  met  on  the  steam- 
er, Stanley  was  provided  with  dry  clothing, 
and  now  book  in  hand  in  the  Gentlemen's 
Saloon  had  all  unconsciously  to  himself  re- 
sumed his  quiet  collected  manner,  and  grave 
melancholy  expression  of  countenance. 

Both  the  lad  and  the  man  whom  he  had 
saved  were  on  the  boat,  and  through  them 
alone  he  would  have  been  lionized,  but  he 
steadily  refused  to  be  thus  treated,  insisting 
he  had  only  done  what  any  other  man  would 
have  performed  under  like  circumstances. 

Later,  a  gentleman  approached  him  and 
presented  a  note.  Opening  it  Stanley  read: 

Mr.  Stanley  :- 

Will  you  grant  me  a  few  minutes  interview 


222  A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN. 

on  the  backguards.  I  feel  that  I  must  thank 
you  for  saving  my  life.  I  want  also  to  beg 
your  forgiveness  for  the  past. 

I  was  confined  all  day  yesterday  to  my 
stateroom  with  a  headache,  and  did  not 
know  you  were  on  the  ill  fated  steamer. 
,Will  you  see  me  now. 

Yours  So  Gratefully, 

Blanche  Osmond. 

Stanley  finished  the  brief  missive,  while 
the  ashen  look  he  had  in  the  river  returned 
to  his  face.  His  fingers  trembled  like  an 
aspen,  but  the  eye  and  brow  had  the  same 
resolute  expression.  Taking  the  note  he 
walked  to  the  clerk's  desk,  and  slipping  it  in  a 
white  envelope,  sealed  the  same  without  di- 
rection, handed  it  to  the  gentleman  who  was 
waiting  and  said: 

"Please  give  this  to  the  lady  who  sent 
you." 

The  man  wonderingly  did  so,  and  after- 
wards reported  that  Miss  Osmond  wanted 
to  thank  her  preserver  in  person,  but  he  had 
refused  to  come;  and  that  the  lady  looked  as 
if  a  dagger  had  been  thrust  into  her  heart 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN.  223 

when  she  opened  the  envelope  and  found  her 
own  note  returned  without  a  word. 

Of  course  the  matter  was  discussed  on  the 
boat  by  various  groups.  Some  said  that 
Stanley  was  timid  in  the  presence  of  women ; 
others  thought  he  was  a  woman  hater;  still 
others  suggested  that  he  wanted  to  add  to 
his  own  importance  by  acting  like  a  Grand 
Mogul ;  while  a  few  affirmed  that  he  was  a 
brave  man,  had  done  a  heroic  thing,  but  did 
not  want  to  be  gushed  over  and  praised  about 
it.  Meantime  he  said  nothing. 

The  next  day  Stanley  disembarked  at  Bat- 
on Rouge  to  attend  to  some  of  the  business 
that  had  called  him  from  Chicago,  while  the 
steamer  bearing  Blanche  Osmond  to  her 
home  swept  on  to  New  Orleans. 

Stanley  came  to  the  Crescent  City  a  few 
days  later,  remaining  there  for  a  month.  Be- 
fore he  left  for  Chicago  he  read  in  the  city 
papers  that  Blanche  Osmond  had  married  a 
wealthy  merchant  of  the  Crescent  City,  and 
had  reached  her  new  and  beautiful  residence 
on  Esplanade  street.  The  same  evening  he 
left  for  his  faraway  home  in  the  North. 

The  papers  of  course  took  up  the  river 
disaster,  and  full  credit  was  given  to  Stanley 


224  A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN. 

for  his  "bravery  and  noble  conduct  in  saving 
three  lives,  among  them  that  of  Miss  Os- 
mond a  beautiful  girl  soon  to  be  married  to  a 
gentleman  in  New  Orleans." 

In  Yazoo  City  the  published  report  was 
quite  a  social  tid  bit.  Some  said  that  Stanley 
not  content  with  having  jilted  the  girl,  was 
still  pursuing  her  to  add  to  her  mortification 
and  distress.  The  greater  number  stated 
their  belief  that  Stanley  was  so  desperately 
in  love  with  the  woman  that  he  could  not 
give  her  up,  even  though  she  had  cast  him 
off,  and  persisted  in  following  her.  A  few 
remarked  that  they  judged  the  meeting  on 
the  boat  was  purely  accidental,  and  that  any- 
how he  had  saved  her  life,  and  this  was 
enough  to  atone  for  his  misconduct  in  the 
past. 

A  paper  containing  the  full  account  of  the 
steamboat  explosion  and  Stanley's  heroism 
was  thrown  off  to  Bentley  at  the  Landing. 
He  being  a  true  friend  of  the  absent  planter, 
and  knowing  the  warm  feeling  entertained 
by  Corwin  and  his  wife,  and  the  devotion  of 
Sandy  and  Millie  for  him,  got  on  his  horse 
to  ride  up  to  Buena  Vista  and  do  that  most 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN.  226 

enjoyable  of  things  in  the  Swamp,  read  the 
news  to  a  hungry  .eared  and  appreciative 
crowd. 

He  met  Millie  at  the  gate,  and  asked  her  to 
call  Sandy  at  once  to  the  front  porch  that 
he  might  hear  read  the  splendid  account 
about  his  Master. 

Millie  replied: 

"Sandy  would  sho'  lak  to  come,  but  He's 
monstus  po'ly  wid  de  rumatiz  an'  de  skyat- 
tiker  an'  I  dunno  whut  all;  an'  he  kain  git 
outen  de  baid." 

"Well  I'm  certainly  sorry  to  hear  that," 
replied  Bentley. 

"Yes  Honey,"  continued  Millie  picking 
her  teeth  with  a  splinter  from  the  rail  fence 
before  her,  "Sandy's  bin  pow'ful  puny  fur  de 
las'  month.  But  hes  done  got  'ligion  doh." 

"Yes?"  said  Bentley  inquiringly. 

"Law  yes  chile.  Sandy  aint  bin  as  'lig- 
ous  sence  he  had  de  new  moany  las'  winter, 
He's  done  quit  pickin'  his  banjer  now  sho* 
nuff,  an'  dun  jined  de  chu'ch  on  suspicion." 

"On  suspicion,"  ejaculated  Bentley,  '"'you 
mean  on  probation!" 

"Yes  dats  whut  I  mean,  but  hits  all  de 


226  A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN. 

same.  Day  puts  em  on  trial  to  see  whuther 
day  gwine  to  do  any  ob  day  pas'  devilment  or 
not.  Yes  Suh,  Sandy  done  jined  on  suspi- 
cion." 

"And  you  say  he's  given  up  his  banjo  play- 
ing?" asked  Bentley  with  an  incredulous 
look. 

"Yes  dat  he  is.  De  ownless  thing  he  do 
now  is  to  sing  hymes  an'  talk  'ligion.  He 
got  his  banjer  hung  up  clost  to  his  baid 
whur  he  kin  see  it.  An'  he  chunes  it  ev'y  day, 
kase  he  say  hits  bes'  fur  de  strings;  but  he 
won't  pick  chunes  on  it  no  moh." 

"It  seems  to  me,"  replied  Bentley,  "that 
if  its  wrong  to  play  on  the  banjo,  it  would 
be  best  to  put  it  out  of  sight;  and  all  that 
tuning  is  trifling  with  temptation,  and  will 
lead  him  back  to  his  old  life." 

"Dats  jes  whut  I  tole  him  dis  mawnin," 
interrupted  Millie,  "I  sayd  ter  him,  Sandy 
youse  takin'  er  pow'ful  long  time  ur  chunin' 
dat  banjer.  De  Debil  gwine  ter  git  you  an' 
yoh  ole  banjer  yit.  But  shoo!  Sandy  doan 
lissun  ter  me;  an'  he  went  on  er  chunin'  an' 
er  chunin'  dat  ole  tinklin  cymbal  fur  er  whole 
hour." 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN.  227 

Bentley  laughed  and  added: 

"Still  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  he  is  a 
better  man,  even  if  he  does  continue  to  tune 
his  string  instrument." 

"Oh  yes  Suh.  Sandys  monstus  improved. 
He  done  gin  up  his  ole  pipe  an'  quit  confum- 
in  de  atmosphere  wid  his  stinkin'  ole  terback- 
er.  An'  he  done  quit  tellin'  his  jokes.  Yes 
Sandys  bin  pow'ful  'ligious  ev'y  sence  de 
doctors  say  he  wuz  dainjus  sick." 

"As  he  is  so  feeble,"  said  Bentley  "I  will 
go  down  to  his  cabin  and  read  to  him  there 
what  is  in  the  paper  about  Mr.  Stanley." 

Thus  saying,  he  in  company  with  Millie 
drew  near  the  humble  little  home  he  had  vis- 
ited the  year  before.  The  pendant  gourds 
were  now  yellow,  the  bees  were  humming 
amid  the  autumn  flowers,  and  a  pea  fowl 
spread  his  showy  beauty  under  one  of  the 
peach  trees. 

As  they  neared  the  house  the  sound  of 
the  banjo  became  quite  distinct,  and  Bentley 
said  to  Millie: 

"If  that  is  tuning  the  banjo,  it  is  the  most 
musical  tuning  I  ever  heard." 

They  even  thought  they  could  hear  a  low 


228  A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN. 

humming  of  the  voice  as  if  Sandy  was  sing- 
ing, but  in  a  way  not  to  awaken  and  grieve 
his  conscience.  To  Bentley  the  tune  and 
words  sounded  wonderfully  like: 

"De  possum  air  a  funny  thing." 

But  at  the  noise  of  their  footfalls,  the  ban- 
jo notes  suddenly  ceased  or  rather  changed, 
and  the  instrument  began  to  send  up  tuning 
sounds  of  a  most  excruciating  nature.  Even 
with  this  adroit  effort  yet  Sandy  looked  de- 
cidedly foolish  and  guilty  when  Millie  said 
on  her  entrance  with  unmistakeable  sar- 
casm: 

"I  woundn'  hev  sech  ur  banjer  as  dat  San- 
dy, whut  tuk  up  my  whole  time  ur  chunin'." 

But  embarrasment,  and  even  rheumatic 
pains  were  forgotten  by  the  devoted  servant 
when  Bentley  read  to  him  the  thrilling  news 
paper  account  of  the  steamboat  disaster,  and 
Stanleys  noble  conduct  in  saving  three  lives, 
one  of  them  being  that  of  Miss  Blanche  Os- 
mond. 

"Whut  she  follerin  Mars  F'ed  aroun'  into 
de  Mississippi  river  fur?"  exclaimed  Millie. 

"Jes  lissun  to  dat  nigger,"  interjected 
Sandy.  "How  Miss  Blanche  gwine  to  foller 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN.  229 

Mars  Fred  when  dey  bofe  done  blowed  up, 
an'  lit  in  de  river  onbeknownst  to  one  anud- 
der!" 

Interrogations  of  course  quickly  followed 
from  them  both,  and  comments  freely  in- 
dulged in  as  only  the  African  can  express 
them,  until  Sandy  in  his  interest  and  excite- 
ment forgot  all  about  his  rheumatism  and 
other  ailments.  He  had  arisen  from  his  bed 
and  commenced  walking  around  the  room 
all  unconscious  of  his  recovery  until  his  at- 
tention was  called  to  the  fact. 

As  Bentley  walked  away  with  Millie  to 
see  the  Corwins,  he  was  certain  he  heard  the 
banjo  going  and  the  tap  of  a  foot  on  the  floor. 
Stopping  a  moment  to  listen,  he  caught  the 
following  words  clearly  and  melodiously 
sung: 

"Ef  I  hed  a  scoldin'  wife, 

I'd  whip  her  sho'  she  born." 

V. 

For  several  weeks  after  his  return  to  Chi- 
cago, Stanley  found  it  exceedingly  difficult 
to  settle  down  to  the  routine  of  his  office 
work.  By  his  visit  to  Mississippi  the  past 


230  A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN. 

had  been  revived,  and  the  old  wounds  set  to 
bleeding  afresh. 

A  deeper  sadness  settled  upon  him  which' 
he  vainly  strove  to  shake  off.  Thinking  that 
his  lowness  of  spirits  might  be  occasioned  by. 
a  state  of  body,  he  lengthened  his  walks, 
rode  more  frequently  on  horseback,  and  in- 
creased his  dumb  bell  exercises;  but  all  to 
no  purpose,  for  the  heart  load  refused  to  be 
dislodged  by  any  such  physical  means. 

He  then  devoted  himself  more  than  ever 
to  his  business,  and  saw  everything  that  he 
touched  prosper  and  turn  to  money.  But 
certain  facts  of  the  past,  and  certain  faces 
connected  with  the  happenings  of  other  days, 
would  keep  coming  in  between  him  and  his 
business  letters,  and  real  estate  books,  in 
spite  of  all  that  he  could  do,  and  his  hand 
would  go  all  unconsciously  to  his  heart  that 
carried  a  sore  aching  feeling  all  the  time. 

In  addition  to  the  melancholy,  came  a 
vague  sense  of  coming  ill  or  trouble;  and 
with  it  a  strong  impression  to  leave  Chicago 
and  return  South. 

This  last  idea  he  combatted  with  his  rea- 
son, and  resisted  with  his  will,  as  he  regard- 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN.  231 

ed  it  as  the  mere  craving  of  a  hungry  heart 
and  not  to  be  yielded  to  for  a  moment.  More- 
over he  mentally  argued  that  there  was  real- 
ly no  need  for  him  to  go.  Corwin  was  a  cap- 
ital manager  and  doing  as  well  as  he  could 
himself.  Then  what  alteration  of  the  past 
and  what  improvement  of  matters  could  re- 
sult from  such  a  trip,  or  permanent  move. 
He  knew  that  nearly  everybody  believed  he 
had  been  rejected  by  Blanche  Osmond  for 
supposed  drunkenness,  and  he  did  not  wish 
to  injure  her  by  declaring  the  truth  and  clear 
ing  himself.  Even  if  he  was  base  enough  to 
wish  to  crush  her  with  the  facts  of  the  case, 
no  one  would  now  credit  his  long  delayed 
report  of  the  matter.  "No,"  he  mentally 
said, — "It  is  better  every  way  that  I  should 
remain  here." 

With  this  conclusion  he  bent  all  his  ener- 
gies to  his  work,  while  the  lines  deepened 
on  his  face,  and  at  the  age  of  thirty  he  looked 
to  be  forty. 

Without  any  special  effort  on  his  part, 
Stanley,  had  attracted  to  himself  some  warm 
friends  and  admirers  from  his  business  as- 
sociates. They  all  observed  at  this  time  the 


232  A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN. 

increasing  melancholy  of  the  man,  anc} 
strove  in  various  ways  to  dispel  it.  But  he 
firmly  though  gently  refused  all  invitations 
to  social  gatherings  and  carefully  avoided 
making  a  single  female  acquaintance. 
f  He  entertained  no  hatred  for  women,  and 
indulged  in  no  morbid  raving  against  the 
entire  sex  because  of  the  faithlessness  of  a 
single  individual  of  that  body.  This  mistake 
and  injustice  of  little  natures  he  did  not 
commit.  But  as  some  animals  when  wounded 
creep  off  to  a  lonely  spot  in  the  forest  to  die 
unseen,  so  he  who  had  received  a  death  blow 
desired  only  to  be  left  alone.  He  asked  no 
sympathy,  and  burdened  no__one  with  his 
grief.  He  had  not  a  single  confidant  at  this 


~~Ris  own  unspoken  longing  was  that  his 
joyless  existence  might  soon  be  ended,  and 
until  that  end  came  he  determined  to  meet 
every  trial  and  duty  like  a  true  man. 

Another  month  rolled  by,  and  again  that 
strange  inward  whisper  or  leading  to  go 
South  came  upon  him.  But  with  something 
in  him  that  the  old  philosophers  possessed, 
and  that  the  Indian  exercised  at  the  stake, 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN.  233 

he  hushed  the  cry  of  his  pleading  heart.  /C 
stifled  the  impression  that  he  regarded  as  a 
piece  of  superstition,  refused  to  yield  to  what 
he  called  sentimentaj^weaknesSj  and  went 
on  in  his  busjness  duties  with  the  precision 
and  regularity  of_ajnachine. 

With  the  rejection  of  the  inner  impulse 
to  leave,  came  again  the  foreboding  of  ca- 
lamity;  and  yielding  to  that  one  day,  he  made 
his  will  and  had  it  recorded  in  the  Court. 

One  Sabbath  evening  in  returning  to  his 
hotel  from  a  walk,  he  passed  a  large  Cath- 
olic cathedral.  It  was  lighted,  and  the  sound 
of  the  Vesper  service  stole  out  upon  the 
street.  Although  a  Protestant,  he  entered 
and  took  his  seat.  An  audience  of  several 
hundred  were  scattered  through  the  great 
building,  the  mist  of  fragrant  incense  was  in 
the  air,  the  lights  glimmered  star-like  from 
ceiling  and  wall,  a  priest  in  his  vestments  was 
bowed  in  the  altar,  while  a  woman's  voice 
from  a  lofty  pillared  gallery  led  the  choir  in 
a  chant  full  of  melody  and  solemnity. 

Beyond  the  chancel  was  a  life  sized  paint- 
ing of  the  Saviour  as  he  hung  upon  the  Cross. 
Some  gas  jets  were  so  shaded  and  trained  as  / 

x»     /  »— ^.     ..  *^>.          ' 


234  A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN. 

to  illuminate  the  thorn  crowned  head,  and 
the  upturned  sorrowful  face  with  drops  of 
blood  on  cheek  and  breast.  The  thought 
flashed  at  once  over  the  silent  observer  as  he 
looked  upon  the  picture  of  the  divine  Suffer- 
er, "He  also  was  lonely  and  misunderstood" ; 
and  a  strange  feeling  of  consolation  stole 
over  his  heart.  He  lingered  until  the  service 
was  concluded,  and  then  walked  silently  and 
thoughtfully  away.  All  the  ensuing  week 
his  friends  thought  they  recognized  in  him 
something  like  a  spirit  of  quiet  cheerfulness. 

"At  this  time,  and  late  one  afternoon  he 
went  into  the  southwestern  part  of  the  City 
to  look  at  some  lots  which  he  proposed  pur- 
chasing. It  was  nearly  dusk  when  he  start- 
ed to  return.  A  chill  wind  was  blowing  from 
the  Lake.  But  buttoning  his  coat  closely  he 
concluded  to  walk  the  distance  of  three 
miles  to  his  hotel. 

The  long  rows  of  lights  stretched  in  twink- 
ling lines  before  him  and  to  his  right  and 
left  as  he  crossed  street  after  street  on  his 
homeward  way.  The  glow  from  lamp  and 
fireplace  threw  warm  tints  on  the  windows 
of  houses  that  he  passed,  and  he  had  many 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN.  235 

glimpses  of  bright  cheerful  homes.  In  one 
the  children  were  clustered  about  a  large 
center  table  looking  at  picture  books,  while 
the  father  and  mother  sat  before  a  glowing 
grate  fire  engaged  in  conversation.  In  an- 
other he  saw  a  man  in  a  dressing  robe  read- 
ing the  evening  paper  while  a  handsome 
dark  haired  woman  was  seated  at  the  piano. 
Both  visions  of  domestic  peace  and  love  went 
like  a  dagger  thrust  into  his  heart,  and  the 
old  lines  of  suffering  grew  deeper  than  ever 
on  his  face. 

He  had  traversed  over  half  the  distance, 
and  was  passing  through  a  part  of  the  city 
that  he  knew  was  not  considered  safe  or  re- 
putable when  the  clock  from  a  distant  steeple 
sounded  the  hour  of  seven.  He  had  turned 
down  a  side  street  in  order  to  reach  an  ave- 
nue that  was  better  lighted,  when  suddenly 
a  door  was  flung  open  just  in  front  of  him, 
and  a  young  woman  with  a  piercing  scream 
rushed  down  the  steps  closely  followed  by  a 
coarse  looking  man  swinging  a  cudgel. 
With  a  bound  he  overtook  her  and  by  a  fear- 
ful blow  struck  her  down  to  the  pavement. 
He  raised  the  club  to  strike  her  again  when 


»36  A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN. 

Stanley  threw  himself  before  it  and  received 
the  full  weight  on  his  left  arm.  The  limb  was 
broken,  and  dropped  powerless  to  his  side; 
but  quick  as  a  lightning  flash  he  swung  his 
well  trained  fist  and  landed  a  crashing  blow 
on  the  jaw  of  the  human  brute.  The  man 
was  knocked  against  the  wall  of  the  house 
and  then  fell  full  length  upon  the  side  walk. 

Stanley  supposing  he  had  settled  the  bully 
for  the  time,  turned  to  assist  the  prostrate 
woman.  But  the  man  though  struck  down 
was  stunned  only  for  a  moment,  and  spring- 
ing to  his  feet  infuriated  and  burning  with 
the  double  flame  of  alcohol  and  revenge, 
drew  a  pistol  and  approaching  his  unsuspi- 
cious victim  fired  directly  into  his  side.  The 
ball  penetrated  the  heart,  and  without  a 
single  exclamation  or  groan  Stanley  fell  up- 
on his  face  and  instantly  expired. 

Two  policemen,  and  several  citizens  who 
had  been  looking  on  from  doors  and  win- 
dows and  beheld  the  frightful  scene,  now  ran 
to  the  tragic  spot. 

The  young  woman  whose  life  had  been 
saved  at  the  cost  of  another,  was  borne  into 
the  house  by  her  friends;  and  the  murderer 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN.  287 

an  insanely  jealous  husband  was  rushed  with 
nippers  on  his  wrists  to  the  nearest  Police 
Station. 

The  dead  body  of  the  Mississippian  was 
taken  into  a  neighboring  drug  store,  an  am- 
bulance summoned,  and  fruitless  efforts 
made  to  restore  the  extinct  spark  of  life. 
When  the  surgeons  arrived  they  pronounced 
that  death  had  been  instantaneous. 

From  cards  and  letters  in  the  pockets, 
the  name  and  address  of  the  murdered  man 
was  discovered,  and  in  a  short  time  friends 
had  arrived.  The  coroner  gravely  pro- 
nounced what  everybody  already  knew,  and 
the  silent  form  of  the  martyr  was  removed 
to  the  parlors  of  a  leading  undertaker. 

In  a  leathern  wallet  on  his  person,  a  copy 
of  Stanley's  will  was  found.  On  opening  it 
his  friends  read  the  request  that  in  case  of 
death  his  body  should  be  buried  in  one  of 
the  cemeteries  of  the  City  of  his  adoption. 
The  desire  was  regarded;  and  after  consider- 
able telegraphing  between  parties  in  Chicago 
and  relatives  in  the  South,  and  after  some 
had  arrived  to  take  part  in  the  funeral  ser- 
vices, the  body  of  Fred  Stanley  was  laid  to 


238  A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN. 

rest  not  far  away  from  the  white  capped 
waves  of  Lake  Michigan. 

The  newspapers  published  the  whole  ac- 
count of  the  tragedy,  the  family  history  of 
the  murderer,  his  jealousy  and  brutality, 
Stanley's  protection  of  the  woman,  the 
knock  down  blow  he  gave  the  man,  and  the 
cruel  murder  that  followed.  The  article, 
graphically  and  forcibly  written  was  several 
columns  in  length. 

Tn  some  way  the  reporter  got  a  copy  of 
the  will  found  in  the  pocket  of  the  slain  man, 
and  this  was  published  in  connection  with 
the  rest  of  the  account.  Among  other  be- 
quests, if  was  found  that  he  had  left  ten 
thousand  dollars  to  Sandy  and  Millie,  one 
thousand  to  Corwin,  five  thousand  to  a  poor 
clergyman  in  his  native  State,  ten  thousand 
to  the  College  where  he  graduated,  and  fifty 
thousand  dollars  to  an  Asylum  for  the  Res- 
cue of  Young  Women.  The  remainder  of  his 
estate,  estimated  at  three  hundred  thousand 
dollars  was  to  be  divided  equally  between 
the  sons  and  daughters  of  a  deceased  bro- 
ther. 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN.  239 

The  press  printed  the  facts  of  the  murder 
correctly,  but  not  everybody  saw  the  papers, 
and  obtained  the  news  second  and  third 
hand.  So  there  were  serious  alterations  in 
the  way  of  additions  and  embellishment. 
All  this  of  course  set  tongues  to  going  again 
'on  Clear  Lake,  and  in  other  regions  as  well. 
The  following  were  some  of  the  utterances. 

"Killed  in  a  brawl  on  the  street." 

"Got  mixed  up  in  a  family  quarrel." 

"Knocked  a  man  down  on  the  pavement 
and  got  shot  for  it." 

"What  on  earth  was  he  doing,  meddling 
in  other  peoples  affairs." 

"A  woman  was  in  the  case!  The  husband 
was  jealous.  Oh  yes,  I  see  it  all !" 

And  so  the  tongues  wagged;  and  some 
imagined  they  saw  everything,  when  in  real- 
ity they  beheld  nothing. 

However  there  was  a  revulsion  of  feeling 
with  many,  and  there  were  quite  a  number 
who  spoke  as  follows. 

"How  sad!  He  was  a  fine  fellow  in  the 
main." 

"That  drunken  spell  of  his  on  the  streets 


240  A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN. 

here  was  very  unfortunate.    It  was  quite  un- 
like him." 

"He  certainly  was  a  brave  man." 
"He  covered  himself  with  glory  in  that 
Chicago  fire,  and  in  the  Steamboat  explo- 


sion/' 


"That  last  act  of  his  in  protecting  that 
woman  was  a  noble  one." 

"Poor  fellow,  I  am  sorry  he  is  dead." 

Among  the  silent  ones  in  Yazoo  City  was 
an  elderly  lady  who  had  written  that  fateful 
letter  to  Stanley  in  regard  to  Blanche  Os- 
mond. She  read  the  description  of  the  tra- 
gedy with  streaming  eyes  and  an  aching 
heart.  One  mental  question  kept  arising 
with  her,  and  would  not  down:  "Had  I  not 
better  to  have  kept  silence  and  left  him  un- 
warned." 

Bentley  could  not  speak  of  the  shocking 
occurrence  without  breaking  down;  while 
Corwin  and  his  wife  had  red  eyes  for  many 
hours. 

As  for  Sandy  and  Millie  they  were  simply 
inconsolable,  and  wept  and  wailed  with  a 
genuineness  of  grief  that  no  one  doubted. 
Sandy  never  touched  his  banjo  again. 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN,  241 

"De  Music  done  all  gone  outen  me,"  he 
said  with  a  burst  of  tears. 

Down  in  New  Orleans  a  woman  with 
black  eyes,  raven  hair,  and  queenly  form, 
sitting  in  her  room  devoured  the  published 
account  with  a  countenance  of  horror  ana 
despair.  When  the  last  word  had  been  read, 
the  paper  slipped  from  her  cold  trembling 
fingers  to  the  floor,  and  like  her  victim  had 
done  in  his  room  nearly  two  years  before, 
she  sat  gazing  at  the  wall  opposite  with  a 
face  that  had  become  deadly  white  and  set 
as  if  carved  in  marble. 

Her  husband  a  man  nearly  thirty 
years  her  senior  came  in  and  found  her  in 
this  position.  He  saw  the  paper  and  the 
head  lines  of  the  long  dispatch  which  he  had 
read  already  in  his  Library.  Placing  his 
arm  about  her,  he  said: 

"I  know  this  must  be  a  great  shock  to  you 
Blanche.  No  doubt  you  feel  badly  because 
you  remember  that  he  saved  your  life.  But 
all  the  same  he  was  unworthy  of  you.  So 
do  not  give  him  another  thought." 

The  woman  made  no  reply,  but  sat  with 
hands  tightly  clasped  in  her  lap  and  her 


242  A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN. 

handsome  Head  bowed  until  he  could  not  see 
her  face.  He  continued: 

"Forget  all  about  him  my  dear.  He  was 
a  rowdy  by  nature,  and  proved  it  by  his 
drunken  spree  that  night  in  Yazoo  City.  He 
was  not  the  man  for  such  a  good  pure  woman 
as  yourself." 

Still  there  was  no  reply  from  the  white 
faced  wife. . 

"I  have  wondered  Blanche,"  pursued  her 
husband  with  a  worried  accent  in  his  voice, 
"how  you  ever  happened  to  engage  your- 
self to  him.  You  surely  did  not  love  him." 

"No,  I  did  not  love  him,"  came  the  slow 
studied  answer. 

"I  thought  not,"  quickly  rejoined  the  hus- 
band with  a  deeply  relieved  and  gratified 
look  on  his  face.  "Now  forgive  me  my 
Queen  for  having  referred  to  a  past  that 
cannot  but  be  painful  to  you.  I  promise 
never  to  do  so  again."  And  the  deluded 
man  stooped  and  kissed  his  wife.  Then 
with  a  lightened  heart  and  satisfied  smile  he 
left  the  room  and  descended  the  stairs  to  the 
street. 

Concealed  by  the  lace  curtains  the  woman 


A  MISUNDERSTOOD  MAN.  243 

watched  him  as  he  took  a  car  for  his  place 
of  business.  Then  turning  quickly  with  a 
gesture  of  despair  she  flung  herself  face 
downward  on  the  floor  and  burst  into  a  per- 
fect convulsion  of  weeping. 

"No,"  she  cried  out,  "I  did  not  love  him 
then,  but  I  do  love  him  now!  I  have  loved 
him  from  the  hour  I  received  his  letter  and 
knew  what  a  man  I  had  lost.  I  loved  him 
when  he  saved  my  wretched  life  and  I  saw 
him  sitting  pale  and  exhausted  in  the  boat,1 
and  refusing  to  look  at  me.  And  Oh!  he 
would  not  let  me  thank  him !  And  he  never 
forgave  me !" 

Great  choking  sobs  shook  her  form,  and 
the  woman's  agony  was  something  fearful 
to  see.  An  unexpected  Nemesis  had  arisen 
in  her  breast  that  was  inflicting  some  of  the 
suffering  and  torture  she  had  so  cruelly  heap- 
ed upon  another  for  weary  days  and  months 
that  seemed  to  have  no  end. 

Her  wedding  gift  clock  chimed  out  three 
times  the  half  hours  as  she  sighed  and  wept 
upon  the  floor.  Finally  sitting  up  and  lean- 
ing her  head  against  the  sofa  with  the  paper 
spread  before  her,  she  read  again  the  whole 


244  A   MISUNDERSTOOD   MAN. 

account  from  beginning  to  end.  As  she  re- 
read the  Will,  the  different  bequests  shone 
out  with  a  deeper  meaning  and  revealed  the 
generous  nature  of  the  man.  The  gift  to 
the  impoverished  preacher,  and  his  remem- 
brance of  his  two  servants  brought  the  tears 
afresh  to  her  eyes.  The  legacy  in  behalf  of 
young  girls  made  her  think  profoundly  for 
awhile,  when  suddenly  a  light  seemed  to 
flash  in  her  mind,  and  taking  the  paper  up 
she  pressed  her  lips  repeatedly  upon  that 
portion,  and  murmured : 

"Maybe  he  loved  me  through  all,  and  in 
spite  of  all." 

Dropping  her  head  upon  the  white  round- 
ed arm  of  which  he  had  once  been  so  proud, 
great  tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks  and  drop- 
ped upon  the  carpet. 

Finally  with  interlocked  hands,  she  raised 
her  head  and  said, 

"Why  should  such  a  man  like  he  was,  be 
allowed  to  die  such  an  awful  death,  and  in 
the  very  prime  of  his  life!" 

And  an  inward  voice  seemed  to  whisper: 

"If  you  had  been  a  true  woman,  he  would 
not  be  dead  to-day/7 


DC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000  757  825     5 


